


Savior

by dgalerab



Series: Among Us [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Mutants, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bokuto is just a ray of sunshine and he's slowly gathering a hoard of sad mutants to love, Child Abuse, Fluff, M/M, Multi, Non-con tag is for things that happen outside of the story and they're not all that extensive, Other, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Setters are X-men, but definitely non-con, poor akaashi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-10
Updated: 2016-09-28
Packaged: 2018-07-22 17:17:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 13
Words: 66,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7447453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dgalerab/pseuds/dgalerab
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bokuto Koutarou isn’t scared of mutants, which is why he might be the first person who has ever shown Akaashi Keiji some sympathy.</p><p>(Or: it was only so long before I got into an X-men AU because I've been in X-men hell since I was 5.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Bokuto Koutarou isn’t scared of mutants, and he doesn’t get why other people are. It’s not like he doesn’t have the same reasons to as the average person. If any, he should be more scared. When he was just starting high school, his best friend ended up in the hospital because of one. He remembers sitting beside Kuroo, seeing how pale he was, waiting to see if he’d wake up, because no one knew how any of this worked.

He also remembers Kenma, and the look on his face, knowing that he’d put his boyfriend in a coma with a single kiss, how he’d tried to run away, how he’d screamed at Koutarou not to touch him, because it frightened him to think he’d hurt anyone else. He remembered how Kenma had cried when Kuroo had finally woken up, and how he’d broken out of his sadness only when Kuroo had giggled and whispered, “Kenma… you take my breath away…” and Kenma had stalked out of the room, bought gloves, and returned a moment later to slap Kuroo with safety measures in place.

Koutarou sees how people report any mutant outbreak or attack. He sees how people look at anyone who is visibly mutant. Sometimes he has to admit, mutants can do a lot of really scary things, but… well. Koutarou can always see Kenma before him, fourteen years old and horrified by his own abilities, thinking he might have lost the one person he loves most just because he was born different.

Bokuto Koutarou isn’t scared of mutants, because he knows they’re exactly as human as him.

That’s why he might be the first person who has ever shown Akaashi Keiji some sympathy.

Bokuto Koutarou is twenty one when he meets Akaashi Keiji. Or rather, when he first sees one of his classmates, one that’s definitely not gay, shoving his tongue down Akaashi’s throat, while Akaashi makes no effort to hide the fact that he’s sliding the guy’s wallet out of his pocket.

He seems surprised that Koutarou has seen him. It’s possibly that one moment, before Akaashi can compensate for the fact that Koutarou, for some inexplicable reason, has rounded the corner into the abandoned hallway of the west building of his university. Koutarou, honestly, has no idea where he is, since he was just contemplating how big an animal a horned owl could pick up, and has, yet again, gotten himself lost by not paying attention. That one moment, just a quick glance between them, Akaashi with his hands clenched around the guy’s wallet, Koutarou blinking at the way the guy can’t seem to let go of Akaashi, even once Akaashi has stopped to stare at Koutarou.

“You don’t mind if I just walk out, right?” Akaashi says, a moment later, smoothly, shock fading away.

Koutarou feels warm and fuzzy from the sound of his voice. “No,” Koutarou breathes, though he’s not sure why. He’s curious about Akaashi, but he feels too content to care right now.

“I’m leaving. Don’t follow, please,” Akaashi drawls, and he slides past Koutarou.

Koutarou feels like he might do anything Akaashi asked of him. He lets Akaashi walk out, without another word.

It’s only after that he realizes he didn’t want to do that at all. He ignores his classmate, who doesn’t seem to understand what’s going on, and tries to dash after Akaashi, but it’s no use. Akaashi’s long gone.

Luckily, Koutarou is a good artist. He draws up a sketch of Akaashi and he shoves it into Kuroo and Kenma’s faces the next day, interrupting Kuroo’s whining about how he wants another kiss ( _“You’ve had two today, Kuro, I know you have a headache from it already…”_ ) and getting a long sigh from Kenma. Their knees are touching, Kenma’s gloved hands wound around Kuroo’s own.

“Do you know this guy?” he blurts.

“He’s in my lit class,” Kenma sighs, turning back to Kuroo as Kuroo gets back to tilting his head back and moaning.

“I can handle another, Kenma, honest!”

“ _No_ , Kuro.”

“Pleeeeeeaase?”

Kenma sighs. “Really fast,” he says finally.

Kuroo grins and plants a tiny, kitten kiss on Kenma’s nose. He pulls back with a shudder. “Ow,” he mutters. “That one actually really hurt.”

“I _told_ you…” Kenma mutters, rolling his eyes.

“But I’m _fine,_ ” Kuroo laughs. It gets a little less convincing when his nose starts to bleed.

“I’m not letting you kiss me for a week.”

“Cruel but fair.”

“You’re an idiot.”

“I’m your idiot.”

“Why.”

“When’s your lit class?” Koutarou cries suddenly. He enjoys how well Kenma and Kuroo make their relationship work, really, he does, but he can’t stop thinking about Akaashi’s wide eyes when he looked at Koutarou, that one second of clarity before things got fuzzy, and the way he almost saw fear in Akaashi’s eyes.

Kenma and Kuroo fix him with identical judgmental looks. “Are you stalking some poor guy?” Kuroo asks.

“What? No!” Koutarou cries. “I’m not!”

“So you aren’t planning to jump him after my lit class,” Kenma says dryly.

“I think he’s a mutant and I think he might not… I just…” He doesn’t know why he’s hung up on this guy. Is it because he’s attractive? Is it because he’s going around stealing people’s wallets with his powers? Is it because his powers are really confusing and Bokuto wants to know what’s going on? Is it because the fear in his eyes in that split second reminds him of the way Kenma looked when Koutarou wrestled him to the ground, promising Kenma that Kenma wasn’t going to hurt him? “… I have a bad feeling.”

Kenma’s eyes soften at that. “We’ll talk to him together, alright?”

“Thanks, Kenma,” Koutarou murmurs.

-X-

Akaashi recognizes him immediately. It hadn’t occurred to him that that was a problem until Akaashi catches sight of him and his eyes immediately dart towards the nearest exit. Thankfully, Koutarou realizes what he’s doing before things get weird again, and he waves his arms frantically. “Hey, hey!” he cries. “I just want to talk.”

Akaashi pauses. He looks like he’s contemplating how he allowed this situation at all. “There’s nothing to talk about,” he murmurs, and Bokuto feels that fuzzy feeling creeping over him.

“Oi!” he yelps. “I know what you look like now, I’m just going to keep coming to find you until you talk to me without doing that…” He waves his arms randomly. “… that thing.”

Kenma watches them quietly.

Akaashi looks terrified now, though his face doesn’t change. It’s just his eyes that betray how he feels. Koutarou doesn’t know him, doesn’t know what that look is from, but he wants desperately to make sure he doesn’t see it in Akaashi’s eyes ever again. “Like I said,” he says softly. “I’m not here to get you in trouble, I just want to talk.”

Now that he’s looking at Akaashi up close, he gets the feeling that there’s a lot going on with him. His face is worn, his sweater is frayed and grey, and he’s skinny, almost frail looking. Koutarou is surprised no one has noticed, but he figures that Akaashi’s probably avoiding being noticed.

“You’re a mutant,” Kenma says, and Akaashi startles a little.

“I’m not,” Akaashi says impulsively.

“I am too,” Kenma says, unconvinced. Koutarou figures he felt the same fuzzy feeling in the moment that Akaashi tried to make his escape. “How do your powers work?”

“You’re…” Akaashi whispers, then shakes himself, fixing Koutarou with a calculated gaze that makes Koutarou shiver. He really is _very_ attractive. “I don’t have any powers. Your friend is only suspicious because he found me kissing another man. I’m sure it’s hard for him to imagine that sort of thing without some kind of supernatural… influence.”

Kenma narrows his eyes. “Nice try,” he says, cocking an eyebrow. “But Koutarou is bisexual and his best friends are me and my _boyfriend_. Pinning this on homophobia wasn’t your best bet.”

Koutarou gives an apologetic shrug. “Besides, I totally saw you steal the guy’s wallet.”

“His family is rich,” Akaashi says, backing up a little. “It probably doesn’t matter to him anyway.”

“Your name is Akaashi, right?” Kenma asks softly. “Have you had your abilities for long?”

“I don’t _have_  abilities,” Akaashi growls. “I just lured a closeted man into a hallway and I stole his wallet, ok? I’m not a freak.”

Kenma sighs, getting out a paper and pencil. He scribbles down an address. “This is a place where it’s safe for people like us, ok?” He slides the paper into Akaashi’s bag. “If you need help or explanations, feel free to come here anytime.”

Akaashi doesn’t say a word, and Kenma has to drag Koutarou away from him by his sleeve. Koutarou can only just see Akaashi slide the paper out of his bag and glance at it before they round the corner. Then he smirks at Kenma, who looks at him with narrowed eyes.

“You’re less shy around other mutants,” he teases.

“I just remember what it’s like to be alone in this… sort of thing,” Kenma murmurs. “Before I moved into the Institute, even with you and Kuroo there…”

Koutarou smiles. “You’re pretty cool, Kenma,” he says.

Kenma blushes and speeds up in an attempt to ignore Koutarou. Koutarou just grins after him.

-X-

The next time he sees Akaashi Keiji, Koutarou is sure it’s destiny. He walked Kenma home, since Kuroo had a research project to do and Kenma hated walking to the Institute alone after dark. He’d then gotten distracted talking to one of the younger residents, a little blonde girl that darted through walls, playing hide and seek with her (even though he knew it was impossible to win) until she was ushered off to bed.

Then, he’d found a penny and stopped to clean it off, which left him very late, but which also put him in the exact right spot to collide with Akaashi as Akaashi dashes down the street across from him. Koutarou takes in Akaashi’s face in a split moment, even though there’s a _lot_ to take in. The fear, the blood, the sheer desperation. Koutarou doesn’t know exactly who he’s running from, but the moment he hears a voice coming from that direction, he shoves Akaashi behind his back and glares the speaker down.

The guy’s big, but he’s obviously not very fit. He looks like someone who spends most of his time drinking, and he’s clearly drunk now, too. In a fistfight, he’d probably be able to take this guy. Akaashi’s fingers tighten in the back of his shirt, and honestly, Koutarou doesn’t care how big this guy is, he’ll _definitely_ take his guy in a fight.

“Come on, Keiji, don’t get some poor sod to fight your battles for you,” the guy croons.

“I’m not…” Akaashi whispers, but Koutarou doesn’t let him finish, reaching on hand back to grab Akaashi’s arm and squeeze gently. At first, Akaashi starts, tries to pull away, but then he shifts into the grip, as though he’s sensed that Koutarou won’t hurt him. That Koutarou knows he’s not being manipulated.

“I’m thinking for myself, thanks,” he says. “Leave him alone.”

The guy scoffs. “You don’t know what that little thing can do.”

“Yeah, I do,” Koutarou says sharply. “Back off.”

“Listen,” the guy hisses. “Just hand over my son. He’s a manipulative little freak, he’s not worth your time.”

Koutarou just fixes him with a glare. “I know he’s a mutant. I’m not going to let you hurt him.”

The guy lunges at him, but he’s too slow, and Koutarou can dip down and punch him in the face first. The guy’s nose crunches under Koutarou’s fist. The guy roars and dashes at him, but before he can, Akaashi throws himself in front of Koutarou, spreading his arms. The guy’s eyes widen, as though he’s seen something truly terrifying, and he scrambles away, leaving Akaashi trembling in front of Koutarou.

Koutarou touches his shoulder gently, but Akaashi flinches and slips away, as though, now that the bigger threat is gone, he’s got to deal with the threat that Koutarou poses. “Why did you help me?” he hisses.

Koutarou blinks at him. “I wasn’t gonna let him hurt you.”

“ _Why_?” Akaashi grits out. “What do you want from me?” He glances down. “Do you want me to make you feel good? Like the boy from before?” He slides a little closer. He’s holding one of his arms tight to his chest, but he runs the other hand up Koutarou’s arm. Koutarou suddenly feels hot, and a part of him wants to let Akaashi do what he’s trying to do.

“No!” he cries, before his brain can get too foggy, shrugging Akaashi’s hand off of him. “Of course not. Look at you, he must have pounded you to a pulp.” He puts a hand on Akaashi’s chin. His lip seems to be split strait through, and the side of his face is a sickening purple.

“I can make you forget that,” Akaashi says. “It doesn’t matter if I look bad, I…”

“Stop that!” Koutarou cries. “I don’t want that from you. You’re hurt and I didn’t want him to hurt you anymore. That’s all!”

Akaashi looks at him, bewildered. “Why would you care? You can’t even be sure that what you’re feeling is really you or if I’m making you feel that way, why…?”

“I’m sure,” Koutarou says gently. “Come on, let’s take you back to the Institute.”

Akaashi follows him silently, though he keeps his distance. He still seems suspicious. Koutarou’s chest tightens at the thought. Is it that unimaginable to Akaashi that someone would want to help him just out of the kindness of their heart? What kind of world must he have been living in?

“I’ve never stood up to him before,” Akaashi whispers finally. “Isn’t that pathetic?”

“Why didn’t you?” Koutarou asks.

“I didn’t think I would have anywhere else to go,” Akaashi admits. “I looked up the Institute, earlier. It was the first time I realized maybe someone would take me in, and I… when I thought… I didn’t steal anything for him today and he got mad. And then I ran.”

“He makes you steal for him?”

“He says that if I’m going to be a freak then I should at least be good for something,” Akaashi says. “And he said that if I didn’t get him money on my own terms, he’d… there are ways… that he could use…”

Akaashi can’t seem to say it. Koutarou gets the gist of it, though, and it makes his stomach churn. “At the Institute no one is going to make you do those kinds of things.” He grins. “Though they do make you do chores. Kenma is always whining about it.”

“You really think they’d want something like me? I’m not… I can’t be trusted.”

“Kenma steals the life of everything he touches,” Koutarou says. “There’s a kid who shoots laser beams out of his eyes whenever he opens them. There’s two shapeshifters and a guy who can turn people’s brains into mush. No one’s going to draw the line at your abilities because you can make people feel things.”

Akaashi doesn’t say anything.

“Listen,” Koutarou continues. “You guys can do scary things, sure. But you’re people. All people can do bad things. But mostly, I think they don’t want to do bad things, and if you can keep them safe and be kind to them, then they won’t. Human or mutant. So I’m going to keep you safe and be kind to you, and then you won’t use your powers for bad things, yeah?”

“That’s very optimistic…” Akaashi pauses. “…I don’t know your name.”

“Bokuto Koutarou,” Koutarou says proudly. “Nice to meet you.”

“Akaashi Keiji.”

Koutarou grins at him. “Can I call you Keiji?”

“You can do what you like, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi says, but his voice is tense.

Koutarou decides not to pry. “Akaashi, then,” he says with a smile. Akaashi’s shoulders slump a little in relief. “And yeah, I’m an optimist. I’m the best optimist around!”

Akaashi’s lips quirk up a little at that, just as they pull up to the Institute. Koutarou’s always loved the Institute, and not just because he saw how much it helped Kenma to move in and be surrounded by other mutants. It’s a beautiful place, with a large garden and huge windows. Koutarou’s drawn it several times, sitting in the grass with Kuroo and Kenma.

Akaashi freezes before the gate. At night, the big house must look a little spooky to him. Koutarou glances back and extends his hand. Akaashi pauses, then takes it and lets Koutarou lead him up the path to the doorway. Koutarou rings the doorbell. After a while, the door swings open, and Ukai Keishin glares down at him. “Bokuto, it’s one in the morning, you can talk to Kenma _tomorrow_.”

“Actually,” Koutarou says, yanking a petrified Akaashi out from behind him. “I found a new mutant.”

Akaashi bows, nearly falling over as he does so.

Ukai gawks at him for a moment. “What happened to you?” he says, gently pulling Akaashi back up.

“His dad was hurting him,” Koutarou volunteers.

“Come in, we’ll get you a doctor,” Ukai says.

Akaashi’s eyes widen, and he turns to run. His fear plunges into Koutarou as well, and he can barely manage the peace of mind to catch Akaashi before he darts out the door. “Hey, hey!” he snaps, though he’s shaking and his heart is pounding. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t want a doctor,” Akaashi sobs, kicking weakly at Koutarou.

Koutarou holds him tight. “Hey,” he says, rubbing his hand along Akaashi’s back. He’s dizzy with fear, but he tries to remember that it’s not his. “You’re hurt, we’re going to fix you up, yeah? Doctors aren’t so scary.”

Akaashi goes limp in Koutarou’s arms, allowing Koutarou to pull him inside. The fear in Koutarou’s chest subsides, though Akaashi still looks just as frightened. Ukai looks as startled as Koutarou feels. “Ah,” he says. “Pheromone manipulation?”

“Huh?” Koutarou says.

“I can smell the pheromones around them. That’s how he interferes with emotions.”

“I don’t know how I do it,” Akaashi mutters. “And I don’t know what pheromones are.” He blushes when Koutarou cocks his head at him. “My father never really let me look into science. I think he was afraid I might learn something new about my powers.”

Ukai sighs. “Come on,” he says, waving them in. “We’ll stay in the living room, feel free to make yourselves comfortable while I get our doctor.”

“Is that why you’re scared of doctors?” Koutarou asks, as he guides Akaashi into the living room.

“I’ve only met one doctor,” Akaashi murmurs. “My father always took me to one of his buddies when he hurt me bad enough for people to notice.”

Koutarou wants to ask more, but he can see that Akaashi doesn’t want to say any more. “Well, no one’s going to hurt you here. And if they do, I’ll punch them.”

Akaashi smiles a little at that. “Thank you, Bokuto-san,” he says. Koutarou realizes he still hasn’t let go of his hand.

Their resident doctor is Shimizu Kiyoko. She’s young, not much older than Koutarou himself, and it seems to calm Akaashi that she’s so quiet. She takes his arm in her hands at first. “Mm,” she says. “That’s broken. We’ll set it in a moment, ok?”

Akaashi tenses, but he nods anyway.

“This might hurt a little, alright?” she says quietly, sliding her hands around Akaashi’s ribs. She prods a little, and Akaashi squirms a little. “Also broken.”

She sets her hands on either side of Akaashi’s face, turning his face back and forth for a moment. “Your lip will need a stitch,” she murmurs.

A tiny whimper slides through Akaashi’s lips. Koutarou squeezes his hand. Shimizu pulls a case from the side and pulls out a syringe. Akaashi’s eyes go wide with panic. “No, no wait, I’ll be good, I’ll be good!” he cries, darting back and trying to hide under Koutarou’s arm. Koutarou grips him a little tighter, but he holds him firmly.

 Shimizu looks at him, startled. “It’s just a painkiller,” she says softly.

“A what?” Akaashi whispers, voice quivering.

Koutarou’s chest tightens, and he holds Akaashi a little closer, weaving his hands into the boy’s hair. “It’s medicine. It’ll make sure you don’t feel any pain when we set your bones,” he says softly.

Akaashi glances at him, then at Shimizu, then at Ukai, who’s hovering above them with his arms crossed. That seems to be the final straw, for some reason. Up until now, as scared as he looks, Akaashi has remained more or less composed, but now he bursts into hiccupping sobs. Koutarou just grips him tightly, running his fingers through Akaashi’s hair. “Hey, it’s ok, it’s ok…” he murmurs.

“Why don’t we just get it over with,” Shimizu suggests, once Akaashi has caught his breath. Akaashi extends a shaking arm, and Shimizu takes it and holds it steady. “This will only pinch for a moment.”

She slides the needle in and pushes the depressor. Akaashi doesn’t dare look until she’s pulled it out and put it away. They wait a little while, Akaashi slowly melting into Koutarou’s arms. “How’s your pain?” Shimizu asks.

“It’s gone, I think,” Akaashi slurs.

“Let me know if something hurts,” she says gently. She takes his arm in hand, sliding the bones into place and then wrapping her fingers around it. It glows for a moment, and then she wraps it into a sling which she slips over Akaashi’s neck. He watches her with wide eyes, but he seems to be much calmer now that he’s noticed that it really doesn’t hurt.

She does the same with his chest, then pulls out a hooked needle and thread. Akaashi flinches a little when she touches it to his lip, but she does the stitch quickly and efficiently, and then puts the needle away immediately. “Done,” she says. “Anything hurting?”

Akaashi shakes his head, touching his fingers to his lip, looking a little confused by it all.

“Good. Please take it easy for the next few days. Your bones won’t heal fully for a little while, and they’ll probably feel pretty tender. I’ll give you some lighter painkillers in the morning.”

“Is that it?” Akaashi whispers, watching Shimizu pack up her things. He’s tired and a little high and he’s swaying as he looks around.

“Yep,” Koutarou says. “Not so bad, right?”

“N-no…” Akaashi mumbles.

“Oikawa and Kozume have an extra bed in their room. They’ve got kind of dangerous powers, so we’re careful who we put beside them, but they’re both well practiced in staying safe. Will you be ok there for a night?”

“Yes,” Akaashi says. “Thank you.”

-X-

They find Akaashi a set of clothes to sleep in and knock on Kenma’s door softly. When the open the door, Oikawa is bent over his laptop, glasses perched on the tip of his nose, large headphones on. Kenma is still on his PSP, wrapped in one of Kuroo’s sweaters. They stare at Akaashi for a while. Akaashi backs up a little.

Oikawa pulls his headphones down. “Who’s this?” he says gently. If Kenma is only talkative when facing a new mutant, Oikawa is certainly only gentle when facing a new mutant.

“Akaashi,” Kenma says, taking in the bruises on his face quietly.

“Ah,” Oikawa says. “Kenma mentioned you.”

Koutarou always forgets that Oikawa and Kenma are pretty good friends, if only because they’re so painfully different in almost every way. Oikawa works himself to the bone, he’s loud and gaudy, and he’s… well, frankly, an asshole. Kenma doesn’t like exerting himself, he’s quiet and he likes to go unnoticed. Though, Koutarou figures, Kenma can also be a bit of an asshole when someone is bothering him.

They both pop up to Akaashi with the same smile, though, Kenma still wriggling into a pair of gloves. “Are you staying in our room tonight?” he asks.

Akaashi nods, barely poking his head around Koutarou’s shoulder.

“Come in, make yourself at home,” Oikawa says, smiling. “That bed is empty, but if you want to be near the window you can switch with me.”

“Um… that one’s fine,” Akaashi murmurs.

“We’ll take care of your bedding,” Kenma offers, grabbing the sheets from Ukai.

“I’ll put on the sheet, you’re too short to reach both sides of the bed at once,” Oikawa crows, his usual taunting slipping into his tone as he talks to Kenma.

“I am not,” Kenma sighs, handing him the sheet. When he’d first moved in, there had been almost thirty centimeters of height difference between them. Now there’s only about ten, but Oikawa hasn’t dropped the teasing.

“I… I can do that,” Akaashi says, slowly slipping out of his surprise.

“Don’t worry about it!” Kenma and Oikawa say at once.

“T-thank you,” Akaashi whispers. Koutarou steadies him with an arm around his shoulder.

“Do you need me to show you where the showers are? Surely you need to wash off.”

“I… Yes,” Akaashi says.

“I’ll take him,” Koutarou says.

Oikawa grabs a large, fluffy towel with little aliens on it. “Here, use this.”

Akaashi takes it quietly. His eyes are watering again, so Koutarou just guides him down the hall. Akaashi runs his hands over the towel a few times. “No one has ever been this kind to me before,” he murmurs.

“Well, Oikawa isn’t usually this nice,” Koutarou says. “He’s kind of a jerk, really.”

“Then why is he being nice to me?”

“He’s like Kenma. He found out he was a mutant by hurting someone really close to him. They both know how scary it is to be mutants, so they’re extra nice with mutants who are just moving in.”

“Ah,” Akaashi says. “And when they’re not new?”

“Kenma likes to be left alone, Oikawa is… well… you can get used to him. He’s not that mean. He just likes to annoy people.” He taps on Akaashi’s shoulder. “Here’s the bathroom. You want me to come inside with you? I’ll stay outside the shower, I’m just worried you’ll fall over.”

“It would be nice if you’d come with me, yes.”

“I won’t peek!”

Akaashi smiles. He looks so tired, but at this point, his smiles are slowly reaching his eyes. He has really pretty eyes. They get into the small bathroom together, and Koutarou puts his hands over his eyes as Akaashi changes, until he hears the curtain close and the water start. He sits down on the closed toilet and sighs. “I don’t live far from here, you know. I live on campus, with Kuroo. If you have any problems here, you can always come over.”

Akaashi is quiet for a moment. “Thank you, Bokuto-san,” he says softly. “I don’t know how I’ll ever repay your kindness.”

Koutarou blushes. “You don’t have to. I just did what was right,” he says.

“I’m not too experienced with kindness, perhaps,” Akaashi says quietly. “But I think… if everyone was as kind as you, the world would be a much better place.”

Koutarou lets out a long squeak. “That’s not… I’m not…”

The water shuts off. Koutarou scrambles to cover his eyes. “Bokuto-san,” comes Akaashi’s voice, sounding a little amused. “I need help getting dressed. My arm is getting sore again.”

“Oh,” Koutarou breaths. “Uh…”

He picks up the clean clothes and awkwardly holds out the underwear, staring at the ceiling as Akaashi steps into them. He drags them up as gingerly as he can, then does the same with the shorts. The shirt is a little easier, but Koutarou still has to get way too close to pull Akaashi’s arms through the sleeves, and in the meantime Akaashi’s thin frame is still mostly bare in front of him.

Koutarou really wants to run his fingers up Akaashi’s spine and tilt his head up just a little to kiss him, but he can’t help but think of that moment back on the way here. _I can make you forget that. It doesn’t matter if I look bad…_ No, for now, that sort of thing would only confuse Akaashi, hurt him. Koutarou can’t think of him like that, not just yet.

He pulls the shirt down and pats Akaashi on the shoulder. “There you go,” he says.

Akaashi lets out an adorable yawn, leaning his head on Koutarou’s shoulder. “I’m so tired,” he whispers.

“I’ll carry you back,” Koutarou says brightly.

“That’s not necessary, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi says, but he melts into Koutarou’s shoulder when Koutarou pulls him into his arms.

He’s fast asleep by the time Koutarou slides him into his newly made bed. Oikawa smiles softly at him. “Rough day, huh?” he says.

Koutarou narrows his eyes at him. “You’re gonna be nice to him, right?”

“Yes,” Oikawa says, weirdly earnest. “I still remember my first night here. It’s my honest goal for everyone to have a better experience.” Koutarou doesn’t exactly know what happened on Oikawa’s night here, but from what he gathers, a tranquilizer gun was involved and Oikawa’s face still goes dark whenever he thinks about it.

“Mm,” Kenma adds, with a nod.

“Who did this to him?” Oikawa says, just barely touching his fingers to the bruises on Akaashi’s face.

“His father,” Koutarou says.

“Poor thing,” Oikawa whispers. “It was a regular thing, then?”

Koutarou nods. “He says he didn’t know where else to go.”

“We’ll make him feel welcome here,” Kenma promises.

“Go to sleep!” Ukai’s voice comes from the door. “And you, Bokuto, I’m driving you back home. It’s late.”

Koutarou glances over Akaashi, watching quietly as Oikawa pulls up the covers and smoothes them gently. Koutarou really wants to stay, and make sure that Akaashi really will be safe, but he knows that Oikawa and Kenma will do as they’ve promised. He gives Akaashi’s foot a small squeeze, and follows Ukai downstairs.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've bumped up my updating to weekly because I have a lot of chapters already written, but if I fall behind I'll return to every other week (updated the end notes to reflect this too.) I'll try to update on Fridays.
> 
> I've read every comment I got for the last chapter like a thousand times. You guys are all awesome!
> 
> Also, here's my favorite "older Kenma" pic for reference, because honestly this is what I'm picturing as I write this and I'd like to share that with you all: [Seriously, this is my kink](https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/2f/ec/5a/2fec5a629e345f6ac0df781d1a163598.jpg)

Akaashi wakes up screaming in the night. Kenma grabs his gloves, but Tooru is already by his side, shaking him awake. Akaashi darts up, crawling away, cradling his bad arm to his side. Tooru gives him room. “It’s alright, it was just a dream,” Tooru says, bending down a little. He knows his height is rather intimidating. He likes it, usually, but now he wants to be comforting.

Akaashi rubs away tears, gasping. “Where am I?”

“The Institute. Koutarou brought you here, remember?”

Akaashi blinks at them. “Oh. Yes. Where is he?”

“He went home,” Tooru says. “Do you need us to call him?”

“No… no, it’s fine.” He takes in the dark room. “Is it… what time is it?”

“Four thirty,” Kenma offers, flicking on his phone.

“I’m sorry I woke you up,” Akaashi mutters.

“It’s alright. We have our own nightmares,” Tooru says softly.

“What are your powers?” Akaashi asks, as if to take the attention off of himself as quickly as possible. Tooru smiles at him softly and lets him do it.

“Ah,” Tooru manages, sitting on the side of Akaashi’s bed. “Psionic blasts. I send out… bursts of psychic energy. They kind of blow up in someone’s brain.” He smiles. “I found out because my best friend was picking on me and I got scared when he pushed me, so I lashed out. In my mind. I didn’t even notice it until he was on the floor.”

“That must have been terrifying,” Akaashi says quietly.

“It was. At first no one believed that I did it, but I knew. I got so worked up I knocked out the whole hospital floor. That’s when they called the Institute. I was so freaked out, no one could get close to me. They had to dart gun me. And when I woke up they had to put me into a special confinement room until I could get a hold of myself.”

“Was your friend ok?”

Tooru nods. “He was fine after a while. He says that at least when he was in a coma for two weeks he didn’t have to listen to my whining.” He snorts. “We’re still best friends.”

Akaashi laughs a little. “And no one here… minds? That… um…”

“That I could turn their brain to mush with a single thought?” Tooru chuckles. “No. I owe these people my life. They know that I wouldn’t hurt them.” He lays down beside Akaashi. “What do you do?”

“Um… manipulate… emotions. With uh… um… pheromones, I think Ukai said?”

“Pheromone manipulation?” Tooru gasps. “Cool! I want that.”

“I  wouldn’t wish you with a pheromone manipulation ability on anyone,” Kenma grumbles, sitting at the side of Akaashi’s bed, folded in on himself.

“What’s that supposed to mean?!” Tooru cries.

“You’re manipulative enough as is. As though you needed more help with that.”

Tooru gasps and covers Akaashi’s ears, though not well enough that it keeps Akaashi from hearing anything. “Don’t talk like that! You’re going to make Akaashi feel bad about his awesome ability!”

“I didn’t say the ability was manipulative. I said you’re manipulative. I wouldn’t trust you with half the abilities in this place, Tooru.”

“Rude!”

“You’re a terrible person.”

“How dare you! I am spectacular.”

“No.”

Akaashi is smiling a little, though he looks uncomfortable with the way Tooru’s hands are still covering his head. Tooru lets him go. “You’re really not worried that I’ll… make you feel things? What if I’m awful and you only like me because I make you?”

“You can’t be worse than Tooru in that respect,” Kenma says dryly. “I still can’t understand why I like him.”

“MEAN.”

“I admitted I actually like you, what more do you want.”

“I want you to admit that I have a stunning personality.”

Kenma just raises an eyebrow at him. Tooru sticks his tongue out at him.

“Honestly, though, we know our own minds. Pheromone manipulation isn’t a very long range power, you’d never be able to keep us in the dark for long. I think we’d be able to figure out whether you’re trustworthy or not quick enough,” Kenma sighs.

“And besides, what kind of manipulative person points out how manipulative they could be.”

“Tooru never admits he’s being manipulative.”

“What have I ever done to you, Kenma?”

“I have to live next to you.”

“Women would kill for this chance…”

“Until they got to live with you.”

“ _Mean!_ ” Tooru cries bouncing up onto the bed and yelling down at Kenma.

Akaashi laughs, then yawns. Tooru hops off the bed immediately. “Get some sleep,” he says. “Wake me if you have any more problems. Kenma doesn’t sleep in gloves, so give him some distance, but I don’t mind. I’ll fall back to sleep in seconds anyway.”

Akaashi nods with another long yawn. “Thank you, Oikawa-san,” he murmurs, burying himself into the covers and dozing off again.

Late into the night, Tooru can hear him whimpering, but he decides to let Akaashi at least get some sleep.

-X-

In the morning, they end up spending all morning trying to find some kind of clothes for Akaashi. Pajamas are easy enough, because they can be loose or tight, but when it comes to actual clothes, it’s a little harder. Eventually, Tooru manages to find a pair of his old jeans, which are a shade of green with little silver stars on them and with the knees worn in, and Kenma finds one of his bigger sweaters, a black, striped wool sweater, and Akaashi actually looks pretty good.

Tooru helps Akaashi into them, and pull the sling over his head for him, and they go downstairs. Akaashi pauses at the end of the stairs, as though he’s not sure what to do. He glances at the front door, as though he thinks that this is just a place to sleep and now it’s time for him to leave, even though it’s early on a Saturda. He blinks at Tooru and Kenma in confusion when they stop short in front of the kitchen.

“Breakfast?” Tooru asks, already suspecting the problem.

“Oh,” Akaashi says. “I never… got any.”

Tooru almost finds  himself responding with pity, but he knows he’d hate that and he’s unwilling to do that to another person. “Breakfast is the best part of the day! Come on, I’m going to make you bacon and eggs and toast and there’s orange juice…” he cries happily, dragging Akaashi into the kitchen by his good hand.

He makes plenty for all three of them and sets it in front of Akaashi. Akaashi is a little hesitant at first, but he picks at some bacon and before long he’s shoveling eggs into his mouth like his life depends on it. “Hey, slow down,” Tooru laughs. “You’re going to give yourself a stomach ache.”

Akaashi seems put out by the thought of slowing down, but he does so without a word of protest. Kenma just picks bites off of Tooru’s plate, and Tooru finds himself watching Akaashi eat with a bit of pride.

Shimizu comes and finds them after breakfast. “Did you eat?” she asks.

Akaashi nods, and he looks nervous, as though he doesn’t know whether to be ashamed or not.

“Good,” she says, pulling a bottle from his bag. “I went to the pharmacy this morning and got you these. Take one in the morning and night, but only with food, ok? They’ll help with the pain.”

“Thank you,” Akaashi says quietly.

Ukai finds them a moment later. “Ah, Akaashi, I’m glad I caught you,” he says. Akaashi shoots a worried look at Tooru, who waves at him to stay calm. “Now that you’ve had some sleep, we need to work on getting you settled in properly. We’ll find you a room, and…”

“I’d like to stay in their room,” Akaashi blurts, moving closer to Tooru and Kenma.

“Now wait,” Tooru says. “I’m not sure… I have nightmares too, sometimes, and my powers get out of hand. You’ll wake up with terrible headaches. Kenma’s used to it, but…”

“And one accidental touch from me could send you to the hospital,” Kenma adds, wide eyed.

“I want to stay with you,” Akaashi repeats.

Tooru glances at Kenma, who shrugs at him.

Ukai sighs. “Alright. Then you have a room. We need to get you some clothes and we need to get to the police’s office. It’s unlikely that your father would look for you through official means, but if he reports it as a kidnapping it’ll be a pain to deal with if we don’t tell them what’s going on beforehand. Are you up for that?”

Akaashi nods quietly. He glances back at Tooru and Kenma. Tooru smiles. “We can come with you.”

“Thank you,” Akaashi says, relieved.

-X-

Bokuto catches up to them as they go to the police station. Akaashi looks particularly happy to see him, and once they’re in the waiting room, he ends up curled around Bokuto, who blushes immediately. Eventually, the police chief comes out to speak to them. He’s a friend of Ukai’s, Tooru knows, and he’s a nice guy. He squats down in front of Akaashi.

“So, you’re the newest resident of the Institute, huh?” he asks.

Akaashi nods, hugging Bokuto’s arm a little closer.

“I’m Shimada Makoto. What’s your name?” he asks, smiling in a way that says this isn’t the first frightened victim he’s had to deal with.

“Akaashi Keiji,” he mumbles.

Shimada rubs his chin. “Mm. Akaashi? That sounds awful familiar.”

“It’s my mother’s name,” Akaashi whispers.

“Yeah? What’s your father’s name?”

“Koji Tsutomu.”

Shimada’s face grows serious. “Someone was with him all night?”

“We were,” Tooru says.

“ _All_ night? You’re certain?”

Akaashi looks at him, frightened.

“All night,” Kenma says.

“Is there security camera footage too?” Shimada asks Ukai.

“Yeah. Why?”

“Good. The more solid the alibi the better,” he says. “I don’t want to risk getting a mutant in front of a jury. You know how that tends to end.”

“Alibi?” Akaashi croaks. “Jury?”

“Your father turned up dead last night,” Shimada says. “Are you ok to identify the body?”

Akaashi gapes at him. Bokuto takes his hand gently. Finally, he manages to shake his head. “I never want to see him again, please,” he whispers.

“Alright,” Shimada says. “I think we’ll manage. He had an ID on him.” He turns to Ukai. “We’ll draw up a statement with the others for the alibi and fill out the necessary paperwork for him to move in.” He pats Akaashi’s knee gently. “Go get some fresh air, ok? We’ll call you back in when we need your signature, alright?”

Akaashi nods faintly, and Bokuto helps him outside. Tooru looks at Kenma sidelong. Kenma is deep in thought. Tooru knows how he’s feeling. His heart is in his mouth. Akaashi escapes from his father, and the next day he’s dead? Something’s not right.

“How did he die?” he asks. “If it’s alright to know.”

“Shot,” Shimada says. “Though I’m afraid that’s as much detail as I can go into.”

Kenma’s eyes catch Tooru’s and narrow. Tooru doesn’t say anything else.

-X-

By the time they’ve finished all the paperwork, Akaashi is slumped over Bokuto’s shoulder, looking as though he’s resigned himself to a life of being a permanent fixture on Bokuto’s arm. Oikawa ruffles his hair gently. “How about we go buy you some new clothes, hmm?”

“I don’t have any money…” Akaashi mumbles.

“Don’t worry,” Kenma says gently. “Ukai will be out in just a second.”

Ukai stumbles out of the station right as Kenma mentions it, rubbing his face. “Ok,” he says, sighing. “We give all runaways a small starting budget for clothes. I’m giving you the budget in cash, Oikawa and Kozume know the deal about how to spend it so you’ve got enough to hold you over for now. Later on, you can earn more pocket money with chores. We’ll talk about that later, ok?”

Akaashi nods quietly, taking the money with shaking hands. “Thank you,” he croaks, and Bokuto rubs absently at his back.

“Come on,” Oikawa says. “There’s a few thrift shops down a few streets. The clothes are used, but we’ll find you something nice.”

Akaashi nods. Bokuto grins and shoves him forward, then grabs his hand and drags him a bit further. The first store they go to is one of Tooru’s favorites. “So,” he chirps. “What do you like?”

“I… I don’t know,” Akaashi murmurs.

“I like aliens,” Tooru laughs, showing Akaashi the large alien head on his green sweater.

“Ok, no,” Kenma says, shoving Tooru aside. “You’re not giving fashion advice.” He starts ruffling through the clothes. “I’m finding him something that he’ll look good in.”

Tooru squawks indignantly, though he has to admit that Kenma easily has the best fashion sense of all of them. Perhaps it’s because Kenma has to chose his clothes so carefully so that they’ll cover enough skin, or perhaps it’s because Kuroo is so sleek and fashionable that he manages to drag Kenma into it as well, but Kenma’s outfits are always put together so that they bring out the best of Kenma’s natural, slim elegance. Tooru mostly just grabs anything that makes him happy. He knows he’s attractive enough to pull it off, after all.

“I bet Akaashi looks good in everything!” Bokuto cries.

“He’ll look even better in good clothes,” Kenma mutters. He eyes Tooru, in his tacky alien sweater, and then Bokuto, with his ripped jeans and hoodie, and then sighs. “I’m calling Kuro.”

By the time Kuroo comes to join them, Tooru and Bokuto have rounded up no less than three owl sweaters, a pair of rainbow fuzzy socks, and a pair of light up sneakers. Kenma has buried his head into the nearest clothing pile and may or may not be crying, Akaashi has buried his face into one of the owl sweaters but is eying the light up sneakers with a sense of faint disgust, and Tooru is arguing with Bokuto because he wants the light up sneakers and Bokuto wants to give them to Akaashi.

“You ok there kitten?” Kuroo laughs, rubbing his hand over Kenma’s back.

Akaashi’s eyes widen as he takes him in, spiky hair and dark eyes and all, and ducks behind Bokuto. Tooru blinks, and it takes him a moment before he realizes how this must look to Akaashi. To Tooru, it’s only natural to see them as shy, gamer Kenma and his dorky boyfriend, but to someone new, Kuroo and Kenma are nearly 4 meters of pure, graceful, eerie calculation. Not to mention, Kuroo does look rather scary at first glance.

 “He looks a great deal scarier than he is,” Tooru offers, but Akaashi just slides closer to Bokuto.

“Aw, come on, Akaashi, Kuroo’s cool!” Bokuto laughs.

Akaashi shakes his head.

Kuroo chuckles. “That’s alright,” he says. “He’ll warm up to me eventually. I’ll keep my distance.” He waves a little at Akaashi. “Kuroo Tetsurou, Kenma’s magnificent boyfriend.”

Kenma kicks him in the shin gently. Kuroo pouts at him.

“Anyway,” he continues. “What do we have here?”

They show him the bounty. Kuroo raises an eyebrow. “Put the light up sneakers away,” he says, voice slightly threatening.

“No! I want them!” Tooru cries.

“Fine, Oikawa, you’re hopeless, but keep them away from your latest victim.”

“Nuh-uh!” Bokuto yelps. “They’re cool! Akaashi should have them!”

Kuroo takes one look at Akaashi face, torn between being scared of Kuroo and disgusted at the sneakers, and sighs. “Kou, give them to Tooru.” Bokuto moves to protest, but Kuroo cuts him off. “No. _No_. Kou. Give them to Tooru. Now. Go. Hand them over.”

Tooru snatches them from Bokuto before Bokuto can start resisting again. He sticks his tongue out at Bokuto. “They’re more alien themed anyway! There’s no light up owls!”

“Not everything has to be themed,” Kuroo sighs.

“But I love aliens so much!” Tooru sighs, looking up at the sky. Part of him hopes that the aliens will hear him this time and take him away to a place where he’s finally given the respect he deserves.

“That’s nice,” Kuroo says, ruffling through the sweaters. Tooru gives a disgruntled whine at his dismissive tone. “Does Akaashi even _like_ owls?”

“Yes,” Akaashi murmurs, glancing at Bokuto for a moment as he says it. He’s not quite out from behind Bokuto just yet, but he’s poked his head over Bokuto’s shoulder to look at what Kuroo’s doing.

“Ok,” Kuroo says. He takes in the last sweater that Akaashi has pressed against his cheek. It’s a big, rainbow colored sweater with little fluff popping off of it and a large owl pattern over the middle.

“I love it,” Akaashi says, gripping it tightly, as though Kuroo’s going to snatch it away from him like the monster he is.

Kenma sighs, burying his head into Kuroo’s back. “Ok,” Kuroo groans, rubbing at his eyes. “Let’s try to ease the blow, kitten, huh?”

They slip aside, whispering quietly to each other, occasionally sizing up Akaashi, and before long they’ve gathered their own extensive pile of clothes. Akaashi ruffles through them and starts picking his favorites. It doesn’t take long before Kenma lets out a sigh and fixes Kuroo with a look.

“He’s just picking the softest ones,” he mutters.

“Let him,” Kuroo snorts. “We’ll manage.”

“Kenma will finally have someone else to torment about their terrible fashion sense!” Tooru yelps excitedly.

“No one _cares_ about your fashion sense, we just don’t understand why you spend an hour on your _hair_ if you’re just going to wear the most hideous alien sweater you can find with it. Either you’re a conceited asshole or _not_ ,” Kuroo says.

“Stop using your boyfriend to torment me!” Tooru shouts, pointing accusingly at Kenma.

“Kuro’s right,” Kenma says, staring at him blankly.

“Mean! _Meaaaan!_ ”

Akaashi picks out his favorites, and Kuroo and Kenma do their best to make full outfits out of it. The total comes out under budget, and they give Akaashi the remainder. He blinks at it. “Should I give it back to Ukai?”

“It’s yours,” Tooru insists. “Don’t worry! The Institue is pretty well off. They get a lot of donations from alums and the Professor has his own funds. And there’s not a lot of runaway mutants that we have to take care of, so a small start for each of them isn’t going to break the institute. It’s to make you feel welcome. Don’t worry about it.”

Akaashi goes quiet, watching the money quietly as Tooru sits down on the curb to exchange his shoes for the light up sneakers, giggling as he smacks them together. “Now the aliens will be able to find me in the dark!”

Akaashi looks up from where he’s gone into stupor from this latest kindness. “If they’re looking for you, wouldn’t they already know where you are?” he asks. “Or if they’re not looking for you, then are you saying they’ll pick up everyone with light up sneakers?”

“Stop murdering my dreams!” Tooru shrieks.

Akaashi flinches, and Tooru moves to apologize, but with Bokuto laughing into his ear, he seems to realize quickly that Tooru isn’t really mad. He fixes Tooru with a blank look. “They’re lame,” he says.

Tooru lets out an insulted gasp, and Kuroo guffaws behind him. “There’s hope for this one yet!”

Tooru continues to play the hurt up, but as soon as no one’s looking, he winks at Akaashi and gives him a proud smile. Akaashi blushes, but he smiles back.

Akaashi is a strong one, that’s for sure. He’ll be an interesting addition to their group.

-X-

The Institute is alive with people when they go home. Early in the evening is when almost everyone is home and awake. They help Akaashi find places for his clothes in their room and drag him back downstairs to the dining room.

“Dinner is usually a group thing,” Tooru explains. “We do lunch and breakfast as we please, but dinner is at six unless you want to scavenge. The kitchen is over that way, it’s always open, but be careful, because anything you put in the cabinets is pretty much community food from there on and we’re all hungry growing children.”

Akaashi smiles wryly. “Does that mean that I can eat anyone else’s food?”

Tooru laughs. “Yes. They know the risks.”

He pushes Akaashi further into the room, grabbing his shoulders and squeezing gently. “Let’s see… Who’s home already?”

There’s about ten people milling about. Tooru points them out one by one, explaining their powers to Akaashi. Akaashi relaxes into his grip as he does so, as though he’s still worried that his powers are too weird, but is finally realizing that everyone here is fighting their own battle. Bokuto lets his hand fall between Akaashi’s shoulders as well.

Akaashi slumps forward a little as Tooru is pointing out Kaname, who, despite his size, turns into unbreakable metal. Tooru guides him gently into a chair. “Ah,” he continues, so that Akaashi doesn’t have to focus on how exhausted he is by everything that has happened recently. “There’s Kageyama Tobio.”

Akaashi rubs his temples and looks up at Tobio, who glowering at a book, eyes covered by blue sunglasses. “He has laser eyes.” Tooru sighs, putting his head on his hands. “What a cool power. I want it and I hate him.”

Kenma kicks him in the shin. “You’re a terrible person,” he mutters. He turns to Akaashi. “Kageyama had an accident a few years back. He can’t turn off the laser beams, so he has to cover his eyes at all times with special glasses. It’s been pretty difficult for him.”

“ _Still_ ,” Tooru mutters. “I want laser eyes.”

Kenma glances at Tobio, ducking his head behind Kuroo so that Tobio doesn’t notice him when he looks up for a moment. “He keeps asking for advice about powers that don’t turn off, and I don’t know what to tell him, so I’m avoiding him.”

“Who’s a terrible person now?” Tooru drawls. Kenma kicks him again. “Oh! Refreshing-kun!” He cries, pointing as he sees Suga walk by.

Suga turns and smiles. Tooru can’t imagine what it’s like to like everyone the way that Suga does, but it’s impossible not to like him right back, even if he’s disgustingly friendly.

“You’re the new mutant!” he says happily, seeing Akaashi and sliding into one of the seats beside them.

Akaashi shrinks back a little. “Yes,” he says, a little terse.

“It’s nice to meet you! I’m Sugawara Koushi. Sorry I wasn’t here last night. Usually I’m around when Kiyoko treats new mutants, to lend a bit of support,” he says, slightly apologetic. “But our girlfriend had a test today and she needed a little bit of encouragement.”

“Your… girlfriend?” Akaashi says quietly.

Suga nods, with a bright smile. “Yes… Kiyoko and Hitoka and I are all together. I’m an empath, so in romantic relationships I can get a little overwhelmed… but Kiyoko and Hitoka have their own relationship, so I can distance myself if I need to.”

Akaashi blinks at him.

“I think you’ll find that there’s a lot of unconventional relationships among us mutants,” Tooru says, nudging Kenma subtly under the table and trying to gesture at Bokuto’s arm around Akaashi’s shoulders without Akaashi noticing. Kenma glares at him and mouths a quick “ _Later_.” “You get used to it.”

“It’s… it’s fine,” Akaashi mumbles, but he’s blushing slightly, his own eyes sliding over to Bokuto as well. Bokuto doesn’t notice. “I don’t mind. It’s just that everyone is… so much kinder here than I’m used to.”

Suga squeezes his hand gently. Akaashi jumps, but he relaxes quickly when Suga smiles at him. “I hope you’ll fit in here,” Suga says. “But if you need someone to talk to, you can always find me.” He nods at Tooru and Kenma. “Those two are certainly aware of the ups and downs of being a mutant, but they can be a little much.”

Akaashi smiles gently. “They’ve been very accommodating so far.”

“Ha!” Tooru cries, pointing at Suga tauntingly. “Take that, Refreshing-kun!”

Suga laughs. “Yes, yes, good job,” he says gently. “But Akaashi, really, you can come to me with anything.”

Akaashi nods, shoulders relaxing. “Thank you.” He yawns slightly.

“You can always go take a nap before dinner,” Kenma offers. “We’ll wake you.”

“I think… that might be a good idea,” Akaashi sighs. “Are you staying, Bokuto-san?” He gives Kuroo a nervous look. “Kuroo-san?”

“Ah, no,” Kuroo says. “It’s a little crowded here during dinner for guests. We should head back to our dorm.”

Bokuto grins, ruffling Akaashi’s hair. “We’ll be back tomorrow, yeah?”

“Alright,” Akaashi says, smiling back at him. “Thank you for everything today, Bokuto-san.”

“No problem!”

-X-

After dinner, when Tooru has left everyone else back at the Institute, he’s almost forgotten about the whole situation with Akaashi’s father. Almost. He gets to Iwaizumi’s dorm room with a grin on his face and all but kicks down the door. He’s still giddy from hanging out with the others, but he can feel the usual worries crawling back up now that it’s just Iwaizumi and he knows he can be honest.

“Iwa-chaaaan!” he cries.

Iwaizumi sighs. “I was almost enjoying today,” he mutters. “Where were you?”

“You missed me and you know it!” Tooru laughs. He hops onto the desk and swings his feet happily. “There’s a new mutant at the Institute, from a really rough situation. I spent the morning with him.”

“Oi,” Iwaizumi says, in the way that means he’s trying to say something nice but doesn’t want Tooru to be an egotistical jerk about it. “You’re really creepy when you’re being nice.”

“Rude! I’m always nice!”

Iwaizumi snorts.

“I’m still friends with a brute like you! A rude, ugly brute!”

“Sure,” Iwaizumi grunts. “Where would you be without me?”

The answer, of course, is that he’d be dead without Iwaizumi. If not physically, then certainly his heart and soul would shrivel and die. But there’s no way that Tooru’s going to admit that.

“I’d probably already be king of the world,” he sing-songs. “If I didn’t have to slow down for my Iwa-chan.”

Iwaizumi punches him in the stomach.

-X-

Iwaizumi goes to get dinner at the little café by the dorm, and Tooru trails after him absently. About halfway into eating, Iwaizumi kicks him in the shin. He gasps and glares at his friend who glares back. Tooru realizes he hasn’t been listening to Iwaizumi at all for a good twenty minutes.

“What?” he asks.

“I said,” Iwaizumi says. “That crocodiles are terrible fliers.”

Tooru blinks at him. “What?” he tries again.

“I’ve been talking nonsense at you for five minutes, just to see if you’re paying attention or not.”

“Did I answer?”

“Perfectly.”

Tooru sighs. “Sorry, Iwa-chan,” he murmurs. He suddenly feels much too exhausted to make fun.

Iwaizumi glowers at him. “What’s on your mind?”

Tooru leans his head back. A lot of things are on his mind, as usual. “Akaashi’s father,” he says, sighing.

“You think the kid did it?”

Tooru shakes his head. “No,” he says. “No, but someone did, and probably the moment Akaashi left. Don’t you think it’s an odd coincidence?”

“Leave it be, Oikawa,” Iwaizumi says. “You’re not going to get anywhere tearing yourself up about it.”

“I’m not _tearing myself up_ about it, I just… It makes me feel uncomfortable. Like something bad is going to happen.”

Iwaizumi rolls his eyes. “It’s a good thing we know you can’t see the future, huh?” Iwaizumi growls, though it’s a kinder growl somehow.

“I could,” Tooru sniffles. “Maybe my powers are evolving.” He pinches at the bridge of his nose.

Iwaizumi narrows his eyes. “Are you having headaches again?”

Tooru mumbles noncommittally.

“It’s not your powers evolving, stupid. You need to sleep more. You’re overworking yourself.”

“Are you my mom, Iwa-chan?” Tooru laughs, though he knows Iwaizumi is right. Iwaizumi goes red with rage. Tooru shrinks back a little. “Sorry, sorry. I’ll sleep tonight.”

“You better,” Iwaizumi says, an underlying threat hovering in his voice.

Tooru tries to sleep, he really does, but Kenma’s game is bright to one side and Akaashi is whimpering on the other and his head hurts. He gets back up and keeps studying for one of his classes. Iwaizumi doesn’t have to know.

-X-

Iwaizumi can tell within two seconds of seeing him and he slaps Tooru over the head. “What did I tell you?” he snaps.

“I _tried_ ,” Tooru insists.

Iwaizumi sighs. “You’re really that freaked out, huh?”

Tooru sniffs. “I’m not freaked out, I just…” He huffs.

“Yeah, yeah, a bad feeling, right?” Iwaizumi mutters. He puts his hands on the sides of Tooru’s head and massages the sides of his head, right where he knows it eases the tension. Tooru almost moans with how precisely he finds the exact right spots with those rough fingers. “Whatever happens, we’ll deal with it as it comes, alright?” he says gently. “And besides, you’re just worried about these headaches. _Stress_ headaches.”

Tooru whimpers as Iwaizumi’s fingers rub over his forehead just right. “Oooh, there,” he whispers.

Iwaizumi snorts. “The great Oikawa Tooru melts from a little massage. How cute.”

“Sh-shut up,” Tooru whines, leaning into Iwaizumi’s hands as his friend pulls his headache out with practiced moves. “Don’t tell _anyone_ about this, _ever_.”

“You’re not very threatening like this,” Iwaizumi laughs.

“Ssssh,” Tooru whines, stomping his foot. “Mean, Iwa-chan, mean.”

“You’re such a baby.”

“I hate you.”

Iwaizumi pulls him down into a hug, and Tooru is so startled he can’t do anything to stop him. Iwaizumi’s hand falls onto the back of Tooru’s neck and pulls him in tightly. Tooru tries not to shiver, though this is a position that’s a lot more _touchy_ than usual and Iwaizumi is so strong and he smells so nice and Tooru is so very in love with him.

“You really are scared your powers are getting out of hand again, right?”

Tooru’s stomach clenches. Lately, Kenma has told him he’s been sending off little blasts in his sleep more often than he used to, and the headaches are so familiar. He thought he had this under control, but now he’s not so sure. He can’t stand to repeat last time, when he’d turned around to yell at Iwaizumi and instead found him falling back, eyes rolling into his head and nose bleeding.

“Kenma mentioned you’ve been having more nightmares.”

“That little brat.”

“Everything’s going to be fine, Tooru. You need to sleep. If things get out of hand we’ll deal with it, ok? You and me.”

“I don’t want to hurt you again.”

Iwaizumi’s thumb presses hard into the back of his neck as he rubs it. “Your shit personality hurts me all the time,” he mutters.

“I’m serious, Hajime,” Tooru says, desperate.

Iwaizumi sighs. “I’m staying by your side whatever you do, so get used to it. If you start doing something weird again, we’ll deal with it. I promise.”

“Ok,” Tooru mumbles into Iwaizumi’s shoulder. “I’ll try to sleep, I promise.”

“You better,” Iwaizumi hisses.

 _I love you_ , Tooru doesn’t say.

That night, he dreams that Iwaizumi says it instead of him, takes his face in his hands and kisses him. The dream is nice, beautiful, but just as Iwaizumi is leaning over him, surrounding Tooru with those familiar, strong arms, he suddenly stops, blood dripping from his nose, eyes wide. He whispers Tooru’s name, accusingly, pleadingly… He slumps, and Tooru’s dashing out into the hallway, just like when he was eight, screaming _Please, someone, help, please, I don’t know what’s happening…_

Tooru wakes to Kenma throwing a pillow into his face and Akaashi screaming. He shakes Akaashi awake, stays with him until he manages to fall back asleep, smiling as though it’s no big deal.

It is a big deal. It’s a big deal, because the words was shrieking in his sleep are the very same words that Tooru was saying in his own dream. Not similar, not paraphrasing… the very, very same, and that’s _definitely_ not something that’s happened before.

-X-

He tries to test it with Iwaizumi. He squints and he huffs while Iwaizumi is studying. He’s going to read Iwaizumi’s mind if it _kills him._

At least, that’s what he thinks at first. After an hour, he’s just gotten two funny looks from Iwaizumi and an even bigger headache than before from squinting so much. He sighs and grabs his glasses from his bag, switching his contacts out, and lets his head hang from the bed as he lets his thoughts drift.

What does Iwaizumi think about? Tooru’s never put much thought into it, since he and Iwaizumi are usually pretty open with each other, but now that Tooru thinks about it, he wonders how Iwaizumi actually _thinks_ about him. He’s brusque and snippy with Tooru outwardly, but Tooru knows he cares about him deeply. But what’s he thinking about inwardly?

For a split second, Tooru allows himself to imagine that Iwaizumi thinks about the same sorts of things Tooru does when he’s sure Iwaizumi won’t notice him being pensive. The soft curve of Tooru’s lips, a strong, tight arm around Tooru’s waist… Tooru glances at Iwaizumi, making sure he’s absorbed in his studies before closing his eyes and letting himself fall into the fantasy.

He doesn’t get very far before Iwaizumi is suddenly dragging him up by his collar. “What are you _doing_ , Shittykawa?” he growls.

“I… I don’t know?” Tooru squeaks. Iwaizumi’s eyes are on fire, fixed on him so intensely that Tooru worries they might already be tearing a hole in his chest.

“What do you mean you _don’t know_?” he hisses.

“I… I was trying to read Iwa-chan’s mind but then I got distracted,” Tooru says quickly, before Iwaizumi hits him.

“Distracted by _what_ exactly?”

“I was thinking of things that Iwa-chan might be thinking of,” Tooru blurts. It’s only a half lie. He was thinking of things he wished Iwaizumi might be thinking of.

“I’m not thinking of _that_.”

Tooru blinks at him. “Huh?”

Iwaizumi sighs. “You’re projecting… thoughts… into my head.”

Tooru blanches. Where was he in the fantasy? Were they just kissing? Just kissing, right? That’s not so bad. He needs to smooth this over. Now. “Sorry, Iwa-chan,” he grins, forcing himself into a singsong tone. “It’s just I was thinking of what I know about Iwa-chan, and I thought, well, at least we can be sure he’s in love with me, so he must be thinking of kissing me.”

Iwaizumi lets out a disgusted _tch_ that settles somewhere in Tooru’s chest and radiates pain, and drops Tooru like he’s hot. Tooru drops down, trying not to let the hurt show on his face. “I don’t think about that,” he repeats. He fixes Tooru with a look. “Your powers really are evolving, huh?”

“I’ve been sharing my new roommates dreams. I don’t know how,” Tooru says.

Iwaizumi sighs, and sits down next to Tooru. Tooru, for once, doesn’t really want him to. “And you’re projecting thoughts into other people’s heads.”

“I only just started that one.”

“You can practice with me. Just… next time… choose something less…”

“Gay?”

“Yeah.”

“You should get used to it, Iwa-chan. How will you ever come out of the closet if you can’t learn to love your own desires?” Tooru whines. “Honestly, I’d do you a favor by shoving a little gay porn into your head…”

Iwaizumi hits him, and they get into the pattern of banter that Tooru is so used to. It’s not until he gets at least two blocks away from Iwaizumi’s dorm room that Tooru lets himself cry.

-X-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On the next chapter: Oikawa can't find any porn on Kenma's laptop and is really upset about it. Akaashi finally gets to laugh, in exchange decides to hate Kuroo because something in this fic has to hurt at all times.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter got really, really long, so I split it in two, and somehow all the plot ended up in the next chapter. But Akaashi gets lots of love, so I think there's a good balance there.

Keiji finds himself utterly bored in the evening. The feeling is new for him. Usually, being home is a constant terror, and he spends the evening curled up and waiting for his father to finally pass out so that Keiji can sneak out to go about his own business.

He doesn’t have any of his own textbooks, does his studying in the library during breaks to minimize the risk of getting caught by his father, so he can’t do that. Oikawa is out and about, Kozume is playing a game. Keiji kind of wants to slide beside him and watch, but he doesn’t know how Kozume is with personal space. He’s not sure how to ask.

So he just lays in his own bed, listening to the quiet sounds of traffic outside. This will be his third night here, and in the morning, he has to talk to the head of the Institute. He’s had classes all day today, and in the evening, Sugawara had shown him all the rooms. For some reason, each set of new information has him dizzy with exhaustion, so it seems everyone has decided to fill him in one small step at a time. He’s grateful for it.

“Bored?” Kozume asks eventually.

Keiji starts. He hadn’t thought that he was being that obvious, or that Kozume was paying attention.

“It’s fine,” he says automatically.

Kozume sighs and pulls up the hood of his sweater, then slides over and pats the bed beside him. Keiji pauses for a moment, then slides onto the bed beside him, resting his head on Kenma’s hood, careful not to touch the strands of hair that slide past the edge.

The game Kozume is playing is a colorful little thing, and it goes too fast for Keiji to follow Kozume’s motions for a while. Once he gets used to them, though, he finds that he’s capable to offer a little strategic advice. Kozume takes it in stride, flawlessly using Keiji’s advice to spin through the levels.

By the time Oikawa gets back, Keiji has almost fallen asleep on Kozume’s shoulder, lost in a fuzzy, warm haze. Kozume is so soft and quiet and Keiji feels as safe with him as he does when faced with Bokuto’s boisterous, unending kindness. It’s funny, since they’re so opposite, that they would make Keiji feel the same.

Keiji’s too sleepy to follow Oikawa and Kozume’s conversation, but after a moment, Kozume jiggles his shoulder, shaking Keiji awake. “Move over,” Kozume says. “We’re making a Tooru sandwich.”

Keiji blinks in confusion, but he moves over anyway. Oikawa slides in between them, and now that he’s paying attention, he can see that Oikawa’s eyes are red rimmed and he’s still wiping snot from his nose, face twisted with tears. He lets Oikawa curl around him and returns the favor as Kozume carefully positions himself behind Oikawa.

“What happened?”

“I accidentally almost confessed to Iwaizumi and he’s… he’s really not interested,” Oikawa mutters into Keiji’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Keiji says gently, ruffling Oikawa’s hair. “But you’re… you’re quite attractive. I’m sure you’ll find someone new.”

Oikawa laughs, even though he’s still crying. “Thank you, Akaashi,” he says.

“God, you are upset,” Kozume mutters. “Not a single egotistical outbreak.”

“I am terrifyingly humble, aren’t I?” Oikawa giggles, rubbing at his eyes. “Besides, I’m not making a big deal about it because I know when I’ve been beaten. Akaashi is a great deal prettier than me.”

Keiji can feel himself blushing. He doesn’t think of himself as pretty. He’s far too skinny, his eyes are always hooded, his hair is a mess. Nothing like Oikawa, with his neat waves and round, bright eyes. Still, when he manages to meet those eyes, he sees nothing but honesty in them. He reaches out to brush tears from Oikawa’s eyes, and the air is hot between them.

Keiji wants to lean forward and kiss him, but after the initial thought, he recoils. He remembers how Bokuto had reacted when Keiji had attempted to repay his kindness with… certain favors. He doesn’t want to risk the same horrified reaction now.

It’s bad enough that tomorrow he’ll have to explain where he’s been getting his tuition to the head of the Institute. It doesn’t matter that Keiji actually _wants_ to kiss Oikawa or Bokuto, he knows that their kindness isn’t one that he can repay in this way. It makes him feel so helpless, to find himself unable to do anything but accept their friendship without having anything to give, but he is still grateful for them.

“Oh, jeez,” Oikawa mutters. “You’ve barely just gotten here and I’m already crying about Iwa-chan.” He sits up, and Keiji’s arm is suddenly a lot colder. “Do you want to watch an Alien movie?”

Keiji shrugs. He hasn’t really seen any movies, so he can’t say if he’ll have the same tastes as Oikawa, but he doesn’t mind trying. Oikawa grabs Kozume’s laptop and types in the password. Kozume sighs. “Already?”

“Just give up, Kenma, I’m always going to figure it out. You’re too lazy to make a proper password.” He grins. “Besides, I’ve seen all your porn already.”

“I don’t have any porn on my laptop,” Kozume sighs. “So there’s no point in telling me you’ve found it.”

“I’m _going_ to, I know you have to have some _somewhere_ ,” Oikawa laughs, balancing the laptop on his foot as he looks for the movie.

Kozume’s background is a picture of Kuroo sleeping. Like this, he almost doesn’t look threatening, but Keiji can still recall his grin and it sets him on edge. He can’t imagine how Kozume manages, being so quiet and still dating someone that terrifying. Though, to an extent, Kozume is also terrifying, if unimposing.

They arrange themselves on the bed so that Keiji and Kozume are settled on Oikawa’s shoulders. Fortunately, Keiji is maybe two centimeters shorter than Oikawa, and Kozume is about two or three centimeters shorter than that, so it’s easy enough for them to adjust themselves so that their heads rest on Oikawa’s shoulders, Keiji and Oikawa tucked into Kozume’s blanket, and Kozume’s socked feet beside theirs. Keiji likes the way that their feet look all next to each other.

They start the movie and as soon as the action starts up, Keiji is terrified. But right now, he’s terrified in a way that’s kind of fun, and he can grasp Oikawa’s arm and look away when it’s too much, and somehow, it’s kind of refreshing. He still screams when the alien bursts through the character’s chest, and Oikawa has to pause the movie so they can all burst into giggles. Keiji can’t remember the last time he laughed, and he feels rusty at it now too.

Kozume kicks them out of his bed when he rolls over to sleep, finally pulling off his gloves and socks for the night, but Keiji finds himself following Oikawa into bed. Oikawa just smiles at him and pulls him into his chest.

Keiji has almost dozed off when Oikawa speaks. “Hey, Akaashi?” he asks.

Keiji mumbles in acknowledgement.

“What’s a thought that makes you really, really happy? Or comfortable?”

Keiji thinks about it, then finds himself blushing. “I think… maybe… How Bokuto-san’s hair would feel without being gelled. I think it would be nice to… to put my face into it.”

“Ok,” Oikawa says quietly. “I’ll remember that.”

Keiji is too tired to ask why he wants to know, so he wraps his arms around Oikawa’s chest and lets himself fall back asleep.

He doesn’t have nightmares that night. Instead, he dreams that Bokuto is sitting before him, on a sunny day, black and white hair falling

-X-

When he wakes up in the morning Kozume and Oikawa are already awake. Oikawa is brushing his teeth absently, sitting on their shared desk, and Kozume is getting dressed, tugging up a pair of black tights with startling patience. Keiji rolls out of bed and looks through his new clothes. He glances at Kozume, who has now pulled on a pair of high waisted shorts. He looks incredible, and Keiji suddenly is a little scared to pull out an outfit.

Kozume catches his eyes and pulls his hair back gently, then strolls across the room to sift through his clothes. He lays out a few clothes, and Keiji blushes as he pulls off his pajamas and gets into the new clothes. He has to admit, they do bring out his figure fairly well, the v-neck of his shirt showing his collarbones neatly and the jeans settling neatly around his waist. Kozume inspects him, then grabs one of his own belts and loops it around Keiji’s waist, pulling it tightly.

“Thank you,” Keiji murmurs.

Kozume smiles wryly. “Like dressing you up is a burden,” he murmurs, and now Keiji is blushing for real.

Oikawa looks him up and down, then holds up two thumbs. “With Kenma’s talents, once we get a little meat on those bones, you’ll be irresistible!”

Keiji can’t bring himself to look at either of them. Instead he jogs down the stairs and searches for something to eat. There’s eggs and bacon in the fridge, and he has to steel himself for a moment to take them freely, but no one yells at him, so he cooks them up and eats them, glancing around suspiciously, just in case someone does get mad at him. No one does, students drifting in and out of the kitchen without a second glance.

Ukai finds him as he’s shoveling the last of it into his mouth and laughs. “Don’t choke. No one’s going to take it from you,” he says gently.

Keiji nods, struggling to swallow. “Are we going to see the head of the Institute?” he asks.

“If you’re ready,” Ukai says. “There’s no rush, really.”

Keiji shoves his plate into the dishwasher and straightens himself out. “I’m ready,” he says, hoping it’s not so audible that he doesn’t feel ready.

Ukai leads him downstairs, into a cool, neat hallway underneath the living room. “The Professor is my grandfather. He’s a very powerful psychic, but you don’t have to worry about privacy. He prefers to listen to what people have to say than what they think.”

“Your grandfather is a mutant?” Keiji asks.

Ukai nods. “My whole family is. I’m third generation. Pretty rare, but it’s nice. It wasn’t much of a shock, at least.”

“What can you do?” Keiji asks.

“Super healing, super senses, and…” He stops Keiji with a hand on his shoulder. “Careful…” He extends one fist, and three bony spikes shoot out between his knuckles. He grins at Keiji. “Pretty cool, huh?”

Keiji finds himself smiling. It’s so refreshing to hear someone proud of their talents. “Yes, very,” he says.

Ukai pats his shoulder and keeps walking. Keiji is a lot less nervous now, somehow.

They come to a large door, and Ukai knocks on it for only a moment before throwing open the door and guiding Keiji inside. Two older men sit inside, a chess table between them, and they barely glance up when Keiji comes inside. One of them is tall and gangly, dark brows furrowing as he rests his elbows on the sides of his wheelchair. The other is shorter, all smiles, eyes narrowed into permanent slits.

“Just a moment,” the shorter one says. “This geezer is just about to lose.”

“Disrespectful old fart,” the taller one says.

True enough, the checkmate lands only a few minutes later. The taller man growls as the shorter one chuckles. “Next time, Nekomata,” he grumbles.

“You’re all talk, old friend…”

The man in the wheelchair wheels himself around, grunting slightly.

“Need a boost?” Nekomata teases.

The taller man grumbles at him noncommittally. “Akaashi Keiji, yes?” he says, his voice sharp. He has a very severe face.

“Yes,” Keiji whispers. He’s shaking again.

“No need to be frightened. I’d like you too feel that this is your home,” he says. “You may call me Professor. I believe Keishin has managed to commandeer my name, so this way we avoid any confusion.”

Ukai scratches at the back of his head awkwardly. “Sorry.”

“Now,” the Professor says, watching Keiji intently. “You have a room, clothes. Food is provided by us. Can you control your powers?”

Keiji nods, incapable of looking the man in the eyes.

“No matter. We’ll work on fine tuning them. Pheromone manipulation, yes?”

Keiji nods again.

“Keishin, please reroute one of the meters so that we can monitor his emissions well. It will help him know exactly what he’s emitting and how much. Practice never hurts.”

“Yes, grandfather,” Ukai says.

“Practice is, of course, optional,” the Professor continues. “But I do recommend it.”

“I will do my best,” Keiji promises. He’s bowing his head, if only to avoid looking at the Professor.

“We ask for a few chores for the boarding,” the Professor says. “There’s a list upstairs. Please discuss with the other residents if there’s something you’d like to do regularly. Otherwise, chores are done in exchange for extra spending money. In a house this large, there’s always something to do, so you have quite a bit of freedom to choose.”

“Of course,” Keiji murmurs. He grits his teeth and looks up. “There… there’s also the matter of my tuition.”

The Professor raises an eyebrow.

“I’ve been… my father didn’t know I was going to university,” Keiji murmurs. “I found… alternative means to pay for classes.” He tries to ignore the shudder  that runs through him whenever he thinks of those men, their sharp fingers on his cheeks, the stench of their kisses. “I’d… I’d rather not…”

“We’ll work it out,” the Professor says. “Money isn’t an issue for us. I may ask for you to do a bit more around the house, but there is no need for you to continue to put yourself in situations like that anymore.” His face is as stony as before, and there’s not a bit of disgust or pity in his eyes, even though Keiji can tell he’s more than aware of what Keiji means by _alternative means._ “Also, Keishin, please get him one of the used laptops from the computer lab, no doubt it will help him in his classes.”

Keiji breathes out a sigh of relief. “Thank you, Professor,” he manages.

“As I said,” the Professor says, smiling slightly. “I’d like you to feel at home here.”

“I do,” Keiji replies honestly. “Everyone has been very welcoming. I will do my best to perform accordingly.”

“I have faith that you will do just fine,” the Professor says, oddly gentle. “Though if you would, I’d like you to check in with me or Sugawara every so often. I think after the things you’ve been through, it might be helpful for you.”

Keiji nods. Sugawara seemed kind enough. He doesn’t think he’ll mind talking to him occasionally.

-X-

Keiji gets back into the room, a worn laptop clutched under his arm. Kozume silently takes it from him. “I’ll set it up for you,” he murmurs, flipping it open and starting it up.

Oikawa is eying him nervously. “How’d it go?” he asks.

“It was fine,” Keiji says. “I need to choose a few chores.”

“Don’t do trash disposal,” Kozume and Oikawa say at once.

Keiji smiles, but Oikawa is still fidgeting, pulling at his fingers. “Um…” he mumbles, and it’s odd to see him so bashful. “How’d you sleep?”

“Wonderfully, actually,” Keiji says, frowning. He hadn’t had a single nightmare. That’s rare for him.

“Ah,” Oikawa says, quietly. “I… I may have done that.”

Keiji blinks at him. He doesn’t see why that’s a bad thing.

“I mean... that… I’ve been kind of… projecting thoughts into people’s heads lately. Or well… I did it once. But I tried it last night, too. And I… That’s why… I hope you don’t feel it’s an invasion of privacy,” Oikawa says.

Keiji suddenly gets a flash of a thought that doesn’t feel like his own, of himself, slapping Oikawa and screaming at him to stay out of his head. “It’s quite alright,” he says, lips curling into an amused smile despite himself. “I welcome some good sleep. But… Oikawa-san?”

“Yes?” he asks, nervous.

“You just did it again. I assume by accident.”

Oikawa blinks up at him, then buries his head into his hands. “Oh, _no_ ,” he murmurs. “I didn’t even notice this time…” He looks up, horror flashing in his eyes. “How will I manage around Iwa-chan? I can’t just _not_ think about kissing him when he’s around.” He leaps to his feet, grabbing Keiji by the shoulders. “He’s so kissable.”

There’s another foreign thought, this time of a gruff stranger roaring and punching Oikawa, yelling something about _what the hell, Shittykawa, what’s wrong with you?_ “Oikawa-san, please calm down,” Keiji says, terrified that he’s going to burst out laughing even though his new friend is clearly honestly distressed.

Oikawa flops over onto the ground and moans, face buried into his arms. “Iwa-chan is going to murder meeeee,” he moans. “Why did my powers have to evolve? What have I done to deserve this?” He kicks at the floor. “I’m going to have to change my name and move to New Mexico. No, wait, dammit, that’s where Roswell is, Iwa-chan will know I’m going there. What am I going to doooooo?”

A jumble of whining and despair filters into Keiji’s head and he has to cover his mouth with his hand to keep from laughing. Oikawa is just so _dramatic_.

“Oh, god, we’re going to have to listen to all your insecurities now, aren’t we,” Kozume says dryly, not even looking up.

“Are you laughing?” Oikawa shrieks, distracted by Keiji’s struggle. “You traitor!”

Keiji lets out a desperate snort.

Oikawa rolls onto his back and kicks his feet like a three year old having a temper tantrum, and Keiji finds himself sliding off the bed with the shuddering laugh it sends through his chest. “I’m going to have to avoid Iwa-chan…” Oikawa moans. “ _Stop laughing._ ”

Keiji catches a glimpse of Kozume laughing quietly as well, and he collapses into giggles.

“How dare you,” Oikawa gasps. “I never want to speak to either of you again.”

“Please, gods, don’t,” Kozume says, struggling to keep his tone even through his laughter. That only makes Keiji laugh harder, and at this point Oikawa is struggling not to laugh too.

“Projecting my own thoughts into others heads…” Oikawa says, laughter bubbling up in his throat as he tries his hardest to keep whining. “How lame can a superpower be, honestly.”

“You could get lamer,” Keiji says.

“Self destruct powers,” Kozume says. “You can blow people up but only if you kill yourself with it.”

“You could shapeshift into a hamster. Or a worm,” Keiji wheezes.

“Or a piece of bread. A sentient piece of bread,” Kozume murmurs, thoughtful in a way.

“I… hate… both of you,” Oikawa giggles. “Don’t try to pretend that this is isn’t the _worst thing ever_.”

“The world hates you,” Keiji manages.

“Who can blame it.”

“Rude!” Oikawa cries, flinging a pillow at Kozume, though it misses, because they’re all crying with laughter.

-X-

Keiji spends the afternoon getting used to the laptop. Kozume has made him a Facebook, with a picture that he took, which makes Keiji look a great deal more attractive than he usually feels. Keiji suspects that Kozume is magic. So far he’s added Bokuto, Kuroo, Kozume, Oikawa and Sugawara, which is basically everyone Keiji knows.

He finds himself scrolling through Bokuto’s pictures and statuses. He has a thousand selfies,  some alone, some with others, and a bunch of pictures of random pretty things. Owls, butterflies, fountains, sunsets…

Keiji barely knows Bokuto and he’s fairly certain he loves him.

Kozume finds him before he can close out of one of Bokuto’s grinning selfies. Kozume fixes him with a thoughtful look. “You really like him, don’t you?”

Keiji blushes. “He’s… he’s very likeable, isn’t he?”

Kozume nods. “Yeah,” he says. “He really is.” He rubs at his arm. “Um. There’s something I should tell you.”

“Yes?”

Kozume shifts uncomfortably. “Uh…” he manages, but at that point, his phone rings. They both jump. Kozume slides out his phone and picks up. “Yeah? … Sure. … I’ll ask him. … Yeah. … Love you.”

He hangs up, fixing Keiji with a look, then looking away, fiddling with his phone. “Do you want to grab lunch with Kuro and Koutarou?”

Keiji nods, stomach fluttering at the thought of spending time with Bokuto just for fun. Kozume gets up, grabbing his hoodie. “Kozume? What did you want to say?” Keiji asks.

Kozume blushes, avoiding his gaze. “It can wait.”

-X-

They walk over to campus and into the dorms. Keiji is oddly excited to see where Bokuto lives. Kozume knocks on their door, and Keiji drops back, unsure of how welcome he is here. Bokuto has been welcoming, and technically, Kuroo has been too, but Kuroo still makes him nervous, somehow.

Kuroo opens the door with a sigh. “Hold on,” he says. “Bokuto’s in a dejected mode.”

“Dejected mode?” Keiji asks.

“What happened?”

Kuroo shrugs. “Can’t tell. He came back and he’s crying about how everything is terrible and he sucks.”

Kozume groans and slips into the room. Keiji follows tentatively, eyeing Kuroo as he does so. Kozume sits on the side of Bokuto’s bed where Bokuto has buried his head under his pillow and is wailing. Keiji inches closer. “Koutarou,” Kozume says, laying a hand on Bokuto’s back, keeping his distance as though Bokuto may grab his face at any moment by accident. “What’s wrong?”

“Leave me here to _die_ ,” Bokuto cries back at him.

Kozume sighs, exchanging looks with Kuroo. Keiji looks between them. His chest is tight with the thought that anything could hurt Bokuto so badly that he’d want to die. Kozume stands up, heading to the door. Keiji blinks at him in shock.

“It’s no use,” Kozume says. “It’s best to let him calm down when he’s like this. Pestering him just makes him feel worse, I think.”

“I’ve already tried bribing him with ice cream,” Kuroo sighs. “That’s usually the last resort.”

“May I try?” Keiji asks.

Kozume shrugs, but he and Kuroo leave the room all the same, leaving the door hanging open.

Keiji slides onto the bed. He’s not sure he’s familiar enough to get this close, like Kozume, but he hopes it’s alright. “Bokuto-san,” he says softly. “Do you mind if I use my powers? It might help you calm down enough to tell me what’s wrong.”

There’s silence for a while, then a quiet, “Ok,” filters out of the pillow. Keiji smiles and places his hand between Bokuto’s shoulder blades. He’s surprisingly muscular, given his relatively lithe frame. Keiji focuses on calming waves, happy thoughts, and Bokuto’s shoulders relax beneath his fingers.

“Better?” Keiji asks.

Bokuto pokes his head out of the pillow, giving Keiji an ashamed look. “Yeah,” he mumbles. “Thanks.” He pushes himself up and sits beside Keiji, shoulders slumped. “I don’t know why I get so worked up about things.”

“What happened?” Keiji asks.

“I failed an exam. One I really studied for. It was material I didn’t get and I just started messing up all the questions and then I clammed up and I couldn’t think of anything and I totally bombed and…” He notices Keiji’s look and stops blushing. “Aw, man, you probably think my problems are so lame… you’re going through way more and you’re totally calm and here I am…”

Keiji places his hand on Bokuto’s. Bokuto blinks at their touching hands like it’s a shooting star or a four leaf clover or something rare and beautiful. “Bokuto-san, there’s no need to be ashamed. You’re very open, it’s no wonder that the ups and downs of the world get to you. I think it’s very endearing.”

Bokuto gawks at him. “Really?” he whispers.

“It’s honest. Refreshing,” Keiji says, smiling.

Bokuto grins, and just like that, his face is like the sun yet again. “You’re the first person to say something nice about my dejected modes!” He sobers again suddenly. “Most people think they’re just a hassle.”

“Well, it’s a good thing I have the power to affect emotions,” Keiji says, shoving his shoulder against Bokuto’s.

“I knew it was destiny that I met you!” Bokuto cries. Keiji’s face goes hot. “I helped you and now you’re helping me! We’re practically made for each other!”

Keiji’s eyes go wide. Bokuto’s join his, and they’re both beet red.

“I mean… like… in a friend way. Or like… whatever… you want,” Bokuto murmurs.

“Perhaps… we should just see where this goes,” Keiji suggests weakly. He doesn’t want Bokuto to be disappointed when he finally realizes how broken and tainted Keiji really is.

“Yeah… I mean… We barely know each other,” Bokuto says. “But I want to get to know you! Like… a lot better.”

“I’d like to know you better too,” Keiji murmurs, though he’s not sure he’s ready for Bokuto to get to know him better in return.

“We should probably go,” Bokuto says gently. “Kuroo and Kenma are probably waiting for us.”

Kuroo and Kozume don’t seem to be at all prepared for Bokuto to be ready to go so soon, but after a moment they take it in stride, giving Keiji matching thumbs up.

It’s nice, hanging out with the three of them. Bokuto and Kuroo are entertaining to watch together, if slightly embarrassing, as though they bring out the dumbest in each other and find it hilarious. It almost makes it easier to believe that Kuroo isn’t so scary. Kozume follows them along, rolling his eyes at their antics, and Keiji watches his games when it gets too painful to watch Kuroo and Bokuto crow _broooo_ at each other as though that in itself is a funny joke.

They’re waiting for food when Kuroo starts nudging at Kozume under the table. “Kenma, can I have a kiss?”

“Three more days, Kuroo, I told you.”

“But Kenmaaaaa…”

“I’ve got it,” Bokuto says, cupping Kuroo’s face in his hands and pulling him in for a tender, moderately long kiss. Far too long to be a teasing peck on the lips.

All of them freeze at once. In the deafening silence, Kuroo and Kozume’s eyes both travel to Keiji’s. Bokuto just stares ahead, Kuroo’s face still in his hands. Keiji can’t look away from his eyes. Something breaks inside him a little. He’d assume _in a friend way_ was to placate Keiji, but it seems it was Bokuto making his current stance clear.

“Wait!” Bokuto cries, swinging around and nearly knocking a cup from the table in that same motion. “No! It’s not like that!”

“It’s perfectly fine, Bokuto-san,” Keiji says, trying not to let his voice waiver. _He doesn’t want you like that, you worthless little…_

“No, really, I don’t have any like… feelings for Kuroo. I mean, we’re good friends and like I’d be really, really sad without him but I mean…” Kuroo ducks his head into his hands and groans. “… It’s not like a romantic thing, I just… because Kenma can’t… It’s… really.” He clutches his head in his hands. “Arg, sorry, I wasn’t thinking, I just…”

Keiji feels that warm feeling creeping back into his chest as Bokuto backpedals. He doesn’t understand what’s going on between him and Kuroo, but it feels nice to know that Bokuto is going this far to make sure that Keiji doesn’t get discouraged. “Don’t worry about it, Bokuto-san. I was told that I should expect unconventional relationships,” he says, forcing a mostly honest smile onto his face. _We’ll see where this goes_ , he repeats to himself.

“I can stop!” Bokuto cries. “If it bothers you.”

“No, it’s fine,” Keiji says. “You’ve known Kuroo-san and Kozume-san for longer than me, I’ll adjust.” Bokuto doesn’t look convinced. “Really. It’s fine.”

Kozume is blushing. “Sorry. I meant to tell you earlier,” he murmurs. “But I didn’t think it was urgent.”

“Sorryyyyyy,” Bokuto moans.

“Don’t mind,” Kuroo says, patting him on the back. “I shouldn’t have been picking on Kenma.”

He looks apologetic, and it’s kind of cute. He looks a lot less scary, but Keiji suddenly decides that, whether he’s being petty or not, he doesn’t like Kuroo at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On the next time: Akaashi finds out some interesting tidbits about his family, and he receives a small warning of the things to come...


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updating early this week because I'm on the road and I don't know when I'll have internet next. Enjoy!

 “Kozume-san,” Keiji says at some point, in their room, late at night.

Kozume looks up from his game with a small crook of his eyebrow. There’s a hint of annoyance in his face, no doubt because Keiji still refuses to use his given name.

“Why are you in love with Kuroo-san?” Keiji asks.

Kozume frowns at him.

“He’s very…” Keiji mulls over the words he’d like to use. He ends up not saying anything at all, to avoid the risk of coming off as jealous or skittish.

Kozume snorts. “Whatever you’re thinking, he’s lamer than that. It’s perfect.”

Keiji blinks at him.

Oikawa lets out a loud snort. “Good luck getting more than that out of him,” he giggles. “Kenma hates talking about his relationship.”

Kozume glares at him. “Kuro is a big, soppy dork, I have to balance him.”

Oikawa just laughs. “It’s true. Get Kuroo to talk about Kenma sometime. You’ll never think he’s scary again.”

“Trust me, Tooru is much scarier than Kuro,” Kozume adds.

“Mean! I am the most innocent person!”

“There’s not an innocent bone in your body.”

“Rude!” Oikawa cries, throwing himself over the bed and his arm over his eyes. “Why must I be so hated by all my dearest friends…”

There’s a knock on their door. Oikawa hops up on the bed and chirps a “ _come in!_ ”, a hopeful look on his face. Keiji knows he’s still hoping that Iwaizumi will pop by to ask why Oikawa’s been avoiding him.

Keiji thought it was silly at first, but in the past two weeks he’s come to understand why. Oikawa is still sporadically depositing his most vivid thoughts into people’s heads without meaning to. Kozume will only throw a pillow at him, and even Keiji has taken to doing the same, but given that Oikawa’s most vivid thoughts certainly feature a _lot_ of Iwaizumi, it’s understandable that Oikawa doesn’t want to risk dropping his latest fantasy into Iwaizumi’s head.

But it’s not Iwaizumi, still, it’s Bokuto. Oikawa kicks his pillow off the bed as he grumpily throws himself onto the bed. “Is this my fate?” he wails. “To share a room with my loved roommates while I am left to my lonely ways? Why must I suffer like this?”

Kozume chucks a pillow at him in response. He gives a horrified gasp.

“Come in, Bokuto-san,” Keiji says, resisting the urge to sigh at Oikawa’s antics.

Bokuto seems a bit nervous, but he slides into the room. He points at Oikawa. “What’s up with him?”

“I’ve been abandoned!” Oikawa wails, hanging his head off the bed.

“He’s overreacting,” Kozume sighs.

“I am not! Iwa-chan hasn’t asked after me once! He probably doesn’t even miss me!”

“You’re texting all the time.”

“ _So?_ ”

“Oikawa-san, please just watch Avatar again,” Keiji sighs.

“See, Kenma, Akaashi is too polite to tell me to shut up straight out.”

“Please shut up, Oikawa-san.”

“RUDE.”

Bokuto grins at him. Keiji cocks his head. “You’re getting really comfortable here,” he says, by way of explanation. He says it as though it’s something Keiji’s accomplished.

“Ah,”  Keiji breathes awkwardly. “Kozume-san and Oikawa-san have been very accommodating.”

“Tch,” Oikawa says, rolling his eyes.

“We’re difficult to live with,” Kozume says. “Our roommates usually don’t manage more than a week.”

“You’ve adjusted very nicely and we’re very proud of you,” Oikawa adds.

Bokuto laughs, seeming overjoyed by the fact that others are proud of Keiji as well. “See! See!” He grabs Keiji’s face in his hands. “You’re so cool Akaashi!”

Keiji blushes. He wants to melt into the bed and never look anyone in the eyes again. “It’s really nothing, Bokuto-san.”

“One of these days you’re going to accept one of my compliments and mean it!” he shouts, sticking his finger in Keiji’s face so fast it almost collides with his cheek. Bokuto squeaks and grabs his face to make sure he didn’t hit Keiji. “Sorry! I got over excited! I’ll be more careful!”

“It’s alright, Bokuto-san,” Keiji sighs. Bokuto doesn’t always seem to have a good idea of where all his limbs are at any one time when he’s excited. At first it was nerve-wracking, but at this point, it’s kind of endearing. Annoying, but endearing.

There’s another knock on the door, and Oikawa bounds up from where he’s been fiddling with his headphones, face shining. Ukai pokes his head in and he immediately slumps.

“Akaashi, I need you to come downstairs,” Ukai says quietly. His face is serious, too serious. Oikawa doesn’t even manage to be dramatic, concern flooding his face instead.

Keiji swallows hard and finds Bokuto’s hand where it lays beside him. Bokuto squeezes. “Come on, Akaashi,” he murmurs. “I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

Keiji lets Bokuto pull him out the door. Kozume and Oikawa give him questioning looks, but he shakes his head. If Bokuto is with him, he’ll be ok.

Shimada is sitting at the dining room table, a serious look on his face. He tries to smile when he sees Keiji, but it’s a little nervous. Keiji kind of wants to run, but Shimada waves his hands. “Don’t worry, you’re not in trouble!” he says gently. “But sit down, because this might be a bit of a shock.”

Bokuto help Keiji into a chair and gives his shoulders a squeeze.

“I mentioned earlier that your name sounded familiar, so I looked for it in the archived police files.” He sighs and sets a folder in front of Keiji. “I recognized it from a missing persons case.”

Keiji blinks at the folder, and Shimada opens it for him. The picture of a small child greets him. A small child that looks a lot like him, but smiling in a way that Keiji hasn’t smiled in years. He doesn’t say anything. He’s not taking in this information properly anyway.

“An Akaashi Keiji was reported missing sixteen years ago by the parents. Your parents.”

“My parents?” Keiji croaks.

“The man who called himself your father isn’t related to you,” Shimada reiterates. “These are your parents.”

He hands Keiji another set of pictures. One is of a woman with the same green eyes as Keiji, the other of a man with the same jaw and brow. Keiji rubs his fingers absently over the pictures. He’s not sure how he feels. He’s not sure what he thinks.

“I’ll leave you their number and address,” Shimada says. “It’s up to you whether you contact them or not, but I’m certain they would be very relieved to see you. Even after all these years. After everything.”

“Yes,” Keiji says, because it seems like a response that covers everything, and he can’t quite take in the situation.

Shimada seems like he’s about to say something else, but instead he just squeezes Keiji’s shoulder and gets up to go. Keiji can hear him and Ukai talking, but he stays there, motionless, staring at those digits on the paper. This doesn’t feel real.

“Do you… you want me to call them?” Bokuto whispers.

“I think… I want to not think about this just yet,” Keiji whispers.

Bokuto is quiet for a while, then he says, “Ok,” and drops his chin on Keiji’s head. “Do you want to go get ice cream?”

“Yes please,” Keiji manages.

He keeps holding onto Bokuto’s hand as they walk. Keiji pointedly avoids thinking about what it means that he and Bokuto are constantly holding hands. It’s not like Kuroo and Bokuto aren’t touchy as well, even though there’s “nothing romantic between them.” Bokuto even manages to get touchy with Kozume, as far as Kozume allows it. And whenever something between them gets too intimate, whenever Keiji’s hands wander to Bokuto’s chest, or when his head slips into Bokuto’s neck, Bokuto immediately pulls away.

That hurts a little, to be honest, but Keiji tells himself that he shouldn’t want more. It’s only been two weeks, and Bokuto has been endlessly kind to him. He’s a steadfast friend. Even if it turns out he doesn’t want Keiji in that way after all, that’s his choice. Keiji will just have to handle the fact that Keiji wants Bokuto in that way. In every way.

Bokuto is so bright and kind. He has a child’s way of looking at the world, full of wonder, easy ups and downs, but he’s steady in a sort of way, in that he’s just soft hearted and wants the best for everyone. He’s everything that Keiji has ever needed, more than he’s ever dared to want.

It’s enough, mostly, to have Bokuto be his friend. Mostly.

But sometimes, it gets hard to draw the line there. Seeing where things go seems to be indicating that things _should_ be happening between them, but they just aren’t.

This is one of those times. Bokuto walks him down to the nearest ice cream shop. Bokuto loves ice cream, even though it’s getting cold outside, and it makes Bokuto so happy that Keiji is also happy. Bokuto gets him the ice cream. They’ve only been a few times, but Bokuto has already memorized Keiji’s favorites.

He sits beside Keiji in the booth, their shoulders close. When he sees Keiji shiver a little, he wraps himself around Keiji, leaning his arm on Keiji’s shoulders in an angle so he can keep eating his own ice cream.

He finishes a lot quicker, giving himself a nice little headache, so he shifts to bury his face in between Keiji’s shoulder blades instead, whining about his headache.

Keiji smiles, allows himself to finish his own ice cream slowly, at his own pace. When he turns back around to let Bokuto know he’s done, though, Bokuto puts a thumb on his bottom lip and wipes away a little bit of ice cream, a strange look on his face, his eyes focused on Keiji’s lips. Keiji’s heart stops.

Bokuto’s eyes slide slowly up to Keiji’s own, and after a moment he takes in Keiji’s wide-eyed expression and pulls away quickly. “Sorry,” he cries, grabbing his head and squeezing his eyes shut. “I got carried away!”

Keiji blinks at him. “You can touch me, Bokuto-san,” he says.

Bokuto blushes, but he doesn’t touch Keiji like that again. Keiji wants to scream in frustration.

“So… are you going to call your parents?” Bokuto asks.

Keiji stares down at his fingers. “I… don’t know. The child they lost… it’s not me. Not anymore. They’re not prepared for a mutant, and it’ll probably just hurt them to know what I’ve been through.” He sighs.

“But… at least they’ll know. They can see how strong you grew up to be.”

Keiji scoffs. “I’m not…”

Bokuto’s hand slides onto the back of his neck. “You are strong. And there’s a lot of other good things about you. It’s better than thinking you’re probably dead.”

Keiji sighs. “I suppose.”

-X-

He calls them. He gets a receptionist. He doesn’t know how to tell her that he’s the Akaashis’ son, so he tells her that he has to see them on business. They have some kind of in-house counseling business. She gives him an appointment for the next Tuesday.

When Keiji tells Oikawa, Oikawa sighs. “I’ve got a huge test that day. I don’t think I can go with you.”

“It’s fine,” Keiji says.

Except then it turns out that Bokuto is working that day, and Kozume has to do a group project, and in the end they manage to get Kuroo to drive him over, and Keiji doesn’t know how to tell them that that is not so fine.

Which is how he ends up in an aggravatingly silent car with Kuroo, nerves on edge and ready to puke. Even better, the Akaashis live outside of town, so Kuroo gets him fourty five minutes early. Keiji is not exactly thrilled about the idea of forty five minutes in a car with Kuroo.

Kuroo pulls over about ten minutes in. Keiji doesn’t look at him.

“I lied,” Kuroo says. “It’s only about twenty minutes to drive out.”

Keiji looks up, trying not to glare. “So you picked me up early because…?” he says, doing his best not to come off as hostile. Kozume and Bokuto love Kuroo, so Keiji doesn’t want them to find out that Keiji doesn’t.

“Because I know you don’t like me. I figured you had your own reasons for not letting Kou and Kenma know, but this is big for you. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable because of me.”

“So you’re not going to drive me?”

“I’d really rather we talked things out. If you think we can,” Kuroo says quietly. He looks a little shy, kind of patient. It’s frustrating. He’s not being mean about this, leaving Keiji with no reason to be mad at him, other than the fact that Kuroo is balancing two boyfriends, one of which Keiji is in love with.

Keiji unclenches his teeth. He considers how disappointed Bokuto might be if Keiji told him that he didn’t even bother trying to talk things out with Kuroo, especially when Kuroo is clearly trying to extend an olive branch. “I don’t enjoy the idea of being interchangeable with Kozume-san,” he says finally.

Kuroo tilts his head, eyes narrowed.

Keiji takes a deep breath. “Kozume-san can’t give you everything you need, so you have Bokuto-san do what he can’t. Bokuto-san can’t take me, so here you are. I assume you’re not bothered because I’m reminiscent of Kozume-san.”

Kuroo sighs, leaning his chin on the steering wheel. “I’m not here as your boyfriend,” he says. “I’m here as a friend, if you’ll have me. And it’s not because of Kenma that I have some sympathy for someone who’s been through as much as you. It’s because you deserve some kindness. And you make Kou happy, and Kenma likes you, which is enough for me.”

Keiji tries to take a steady breath through his nose. He’s still not looking at Kuroo.

“Kenma’s more than capable of giving me what I need,” Kuroo continues. He gives a nervous chuckle. “He’s pretty smart. He can’t touch me, skin to skin, but uh… he’s figured out how to make up for it.” Keiji blinks. Kuroo looks profoundly sexual, but he’s blushing deeply at the mention of it. _Whatever you’re thinking, he’s lamer than that_ , he recalls. “But it bothers him, I guess, that there’s still things he can’t do. It makes him feel better that he can give me those things as well, in a way.”

Kuroo pulls his knees up, and when Keiji looks at him, he looks pretty small. “If it makes him feel like he’s got control over things, I don’t mind, but Kou and I both know that it’s not… it’s not serious, between us. I’m thinking of Kenma, always, and he’s just… a really, really good friend.” He rubs at his neck awkwardly. “And I guess he finds me attractive, so he says he doesn’t mind. But we definitely bribe him with ice cream. A lot.”

“So you’ve… you’ve had sex?” Keiji says.

Kuroo blushes even harder. “Yeah. But honestly, if that bothers you, just let us know. Kenma will find a work around.”

Keiji shakes his head. He feels kind of awful, at the moment, seeing Kuroo curled up beside him. Somehow he’d just assumed that Kuroo was the one asking for more and he doesn’t know why he didn’t think of Kozume wanting more. “No,” he says. “If it’s for Kozume-san… I’ll manage.” He sighs. “If there’s nothing between you, it’s fine.” He finds his eyes dropping into his lap. “Though… I’m not sure there will ever be anything between me and Bokuto-san either.”

Kuroo snorts. “Don’t worry about that,” he laughs. “Kou thinks you hung the moon.”

Now Keiji is the one blushing. “I’m not sure he knows me that well.”

Kuroo smiles, slightly bittersweet. “I bet what you’re worried about wasn’t your fault, and Kou won’t blame you one bit.”

“My f… the man… I lived with… didn’t know I was going to university,” Keiji blurts.

“You don’t have to tell me…” Kuroo says quickly, but Keiji shakes his head. He wants to get this off his chest, finally, and he and Kuroo are being rather open at the moment anyway. If he says it now, maybe it won’t feel so awful.

“But he was usually passed out during the day, so I’d just tell him that I was picking up money… He’d notice if I was gone for too long, though, so I had to… to get money faster. To make up for the time I spent in class, and for my tuition.”

Kuroo is silent, so Keiji closes his eyes and continues.

“I picked up a few guys at a business convention. Older men, rich ones, who were willing to pay a lot for… for a certain kind of companionship. With my powers I’d get them off really fast, and then they’d be satisfied for the night, so I didn’t have to do much, but…” He clutches his own arms, shivering. “… I feel rather… used. I’m not sure that Bokuto-san wants or deserves something so… secondhand.”

Kuroo is quiet. “You’re not secondhand,” he says finally. “And you’re more than good enough for Kou.”

“I knew I’d never get away from that man without a degree,” Keiji whispers. “I was so desperate, I would have done _anything_.”

“Hey,” Kuroo says, just barely brushing his fingers against Keiji’s shoulder, as an invitation. Keiji takes it, diving into Kuroo’s chest and letting him hold him close. “That’s badass, yeah? You found a way out and you took it. It’s shit that you didn’t have better options, but… come on. That’s not your fault.”

Keiji doesn’t quite believe him, but he sees a chance that he might, eventually, and he clutches Kuroo tighter. “What will my parents think?”

“Hopefully they’ll think that despite everything terrible that’s happened, they got a really, really cool son. And if not, then Kenma and I will adopt you.”

“That’s a vaguely disgusting thought, if you’re regularly having sex with my future boyfriend,” Keiji says dryly.

Kuroo laughs. “True. Then we’ll have Suga adopt you.”

“Ok,” Keiji says, trying not to sniffle.

Kuroo lets him go. “You ready?”

Keiji nods. “Yes,” he says. “Thank you for this, Kuroo-san.”

Kuroo smiles. “I’m always this kind,” he says smoothly. Keiji raises an eyebrow at him, which makes Kuroo chuckle again as he starts the car. “Fine, don’t believe me. I’ll be nice to you anyway. Because I’m always this kind.”

-X-

The Akaashis live in a small house a few streets off the side of the main road. Their house is big, but not too big, and their living room serves as a waiting room of sorts. Their office is off to the side and a staircase leads upstairs, presumably to the bedrooms. Keiji finds himself utterly frozen on the couch. Kuroo has found a cat and is stroking it gently, cooing. He offers it to Keiji, and Keiji strokes its head.

He still feels decidedly awkward around Kuroo, but he’s glad Kuroo is here, at the very least because Kuroo will probably stop him if he tries to climb out the window to avoid this entire situation.

“Kuroo-san,” he whispers.

“Yeah?”

“When the receptionist asked me for a name, I may have panicked and said the first name that occurred to me.”

“No,” Kuroo whispers. “Bokuto Koutarou?”

“Bokuto Keiji,” Keiji manages. He doesn’t dare look at Kuroo.

Kuroo snorts loudly. “Maybe it’s for the best that Bokuto couldn’t make it. That probably would have short circuited him.”

“If you tell him I will murder you.”

“Your secret is safe with me. Also, it’s generally more effective to threaten people when you’re not clutching a cat for dear life.”

Keiji doesn’t even remember when he took the cat from Kuroo or when he settled his forehead into its fur, but he has to admit that it probably looks pretty pathetic. He doesn’t care.

A woman comes out from the office with a smile. Keiji blinks up at her and realizes it’s the lady from the picture, if a little greyer. Akaashi Tomone. His mother. Her eyes look just like his. She looks down at the clipboard in her hands and starts to read the name aloud, but she stutters over _Keiji_ , then looks up at him, then back down. The clipboard clatters out of her hands. Keiji drops the cat.

“Oh my gods,” she whispers. “ _Keiji_?”

Keiji manages to grit out something like an affirmative whimper.

She dashes over to him and slides her hands around his face. “Keiji? My Keiji?”

Keiji nods. Tears are flooding his eyes, and then he’s pulled into a hug and he doesn’t care at all if later he’ll be a disappointment or if he deserves this, it’s a warm, solid hug that envelops him fully and he hugs back, trying not to sob.

His mother pulls away a little to yell into the office. “Hachiro!”

The man from the photo, _his father, his real father_ , pokes his head out, looking a little concerned. Keiji’s mother pulls Keiji in front of her. “Look,” she chokes.

It takes him a moment before recognition dawns over his face too. “Keiji?” he breathes.

Keiji musters one more nod, and then his father, _real father_ is joining the hug too. He smells like ink and old books, instead of alcohol. Keiji lets himself melt into the embrace again.

They’re all in tears by the time they break away. Kuroo is trying to make himself inconspicuous, which is not something he’s suited for. “This is Kuroo Tetsurou, he’s here for moral support,” Keiji offers.

His mother latches onto Kuroo’s hand and bows in thanks. “Oh, no, please, that’s not necessary…” Kuroo squeaks.

“Thank you for bringing our son back to us,” she whispers.

“That wasn’t me, I just drove him over, really…”

“Come upstairs,” Keiji’s father says. Keiji finds it odd to think the words _his father_ without fear and disgust, but it’s something he’d like to practice. “We have some tea and a few cookies, let’s sit and talk. We have so much to catch up on.”

Keiji wants to follow, he wants to accept this dream, but he can’t allow it if it’s going to snatched away from him straight away. He can remember all the times the man who said he was his father treated him as less than dirt for his powers, and he’s not ready to allow himself to wish for better if it’s not going to happen.

“Wait,” he croaks. It hurts to even try to stop all this from happening, especially when he’s so close. Kuroo gives him a look that Keiji can’t comprehend, and his parents give him nervous looks. “Before we get settled in… there’s something you should know.” He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes, too frightened to see their reactions. “I’m a mutant. If that’s not something you can handle, I don’t want this to go any further.”

His mother lets out a nervous, breathy laugh. “Keiji, we know,” she says.

He opens his eyes, blinking at her.

“You presented very, very early,” she continues, with a gentle smile. “It was quite the hassle, dealing with a baby who could change our emotions, but luckily, we’re both very experienced.”

“Experienced?” Keiji prompts. He feels dizzy. Things seem like a dream.

“You take after your mother,” his father says, with a wink.

At first, Keiji doesn’t understand, but eventually it dawns on him. “You… you’re a mutant?” he croaks. This is… he’s dreaming. His father… not father… has knocked him out and he’s probably hallucinating in a coma.

She nods. “We have the same powers, in fact,” she says, stroking his cheek. It’s warm, soft. He’s not dreaming, he can’t be dreaming. “Though I believe yours are a great deal stronger. They certainly were when you were a baby.” She nods towards the stairs. “Now come on, I want to feed you. You’re skin and bones, look at you!”

“Fortunately he has quite the appetite,” Kuroo teases. “We’re going to beef him up in no time.”

Keiji finds himself blushing, so he kicks Kuroo in the shin. Kuroo laughs at him.

-X-

It’s late by the time their conversations taper off. Keiji has sorted through his father’s book collection and his mother has stuffed three meals into him. “You staying?” Kuroo asks, as he sees Keiji yawning as he pages through one of the books.

Keiji freezes. He’s only just gotten used to the Institute, he’s not sure he wants to change everything again, but he doesn’t want to disappoint his parents either. “I…” he says, throat dry.

His father (Keiji looks forward to the day when he thinks those words without a shiver, because this new man is quiet and gentle and he holds Keiji like treasure) puts a hand over his shoulders. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to,” he says quietly, ruffling Keiji’s hair. “You’re welcome to stay, but we understand if you want to stay at the Institute.”

“Actually,” his mother says quietly. “I’d prefer it, if Keiji doesn’t mind. It’s a great deal safer.”

Keiji frowns at her. “Safer?”

She nods. “When you were taken… Well… I’m not so sure it was an accident that they took you.”

“Tomone…” his father says quietly.

“They took you from your daycare. They asked for you specifically. They knew details about us that convinced your teachers to entrust you to them.”

His father’s thumb tightens on Keiji’s shoulder, fingers stroking gently. “You mean they wanted me specifically?” Keiji whispers.

“I don’t know,” his mother admits. “But I would sleep better at night knowing you’re in a place with a good alarm system, surrounded by people who can protect you.” She takes his hand and squeezes. “But you’re welcome to visit whenever you want. And call, too, every day, if you want.”

Keiji smiles softly. “I’d like that.”

His father pulls him in for a hug as his mother kisses his forehead. There’s not a hint of disappointment in either of their faces. “We love you so much, Keiji,” his mother whispers. “I’m so proud that you’ve made it through everything. I promise we’ll both be here to treasure you from now on.”

Keiji smiles and bows his head. “Thank you,” he whispers. “I’ll do my best to be worthy of it.”

“I don’t think that will be a problem,” his father says, pressing his own kiss to Keiji’s head.

-X-

Keiji is nearly asleep by the time they get back home. Kuroo silently carries him to his room. He’s lanky, but he seems to be surprisingly strong. It seems Kozume is still away, and Oikawa is studying in the kitchen. The window creaks gently in the quiet room. Keiji closes it, something uncomfortable settling into the pit of his stomach. _They asked for you specifically_.

“Kuroo-san?” Keiji whispers.

Kuroo hums, doodling little hearts onto a post-it note beside Kozume’s bed.

“Would Kozume-san mind if you were to stay with me tonight?”

Kuroo smiles. “Nah,” he says. “Hold on, I have a change of clothes under his bed, I’ll shower.”

Keiji smiles back at him, letting Kuroo go shower as he changes. He settles into the bed. He texts Kozume, just in case, though.

**_Can Kuroo stay the night with me? I don’t want to sleep alone_ **

**_Careful he steals pillows. But sure. Kiss him goodnight for me if youre ok with it_ **

**_Will do. Thank you_ **

**_Sleep tight_ **

Kuroo slips into bed beside him. Keiji rolls over so that he’s facing Kuroo. “Kozume-san asked me to kiss you goodnight for him,” Keiji murmurs.

“Don’t worry about it,” Kuroo says. He’s already stolen one of Kozume’s pillows.

“I don’t mind. But I warn you, I will be thinking of Bokuto-san,” Keiji says, smiling a little.

“Fair enough. I’ll be thinking of Kenma,” Kuroo says with a grin. “Eyes closed?”

“Eyes closed.”

Keiji closes his eyes and leans forward, pressing his lips ever so gently to Kuroo’s. Kuroo’s lips are soft. Keiji imagines that Bokuto’s are slightly more chapped, a little more worn from chewing on them, and that he’s a bit more eager in his kisses, even if he’s as tender as Kuroo. It’s only a second before he pulls away, letting his eyes flutter open and meet Kuroo’s as they flutter open a moment later.

“Good night,” Kuroo says gently, pulling Kozume’s pillow over his head with one arm and Keiji’s head into his chest with the other. Keiji loves the way that Kuroo smells. It reminds him of old coffee shops and days outside after the rain. He breaths it in slowly and tries not to blush when he realizes he’s not thinking of Bokuto _now_.

“Good night,” he mumbles.

He sleeps well that night too, despite Oikawa’s helpful happy thoughts being far away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few texting headcanons:
> 
> Kuroo's texts are always grammatically correct and with perfect spelling. He has his favorite sayings in chatspeak, but those are the only ones he uses, and he types most things out.
> 
> Bokuto's texts are a mess. No capitalization or punctuation, terrible spelling, emojis, the works.
> 
> Akaashi often forgets punctuation at the end of his texts, but his spelling is perfect and he types everything out. He likes to use emojis but he always forgets about them.
> 
> Kenma doesn't care. His phone automatically capitalizes the first word of the sentence, so that's always right, but he'll abbreviate anything and won't use punctuation unless there are multiple sentences in one text. Sometimes he'll use an emoji, but he's too lazy to look for them in the menu or type out the shortcut. 
> 
> Oikawa's texts are 90% emoji and 7% obnoxious, leaving a tiny 3% of substance.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I'm going to shift my chapters to Thursday... Fridays are just too packed.
> 
> So many people commented on the last chapter! Thank you all again! I hope you guys continue to enjoy these! ^_^
> 
> Edit: there's actual smut in this chapter, so if you want to skip that, go from "Tetsurou shakes his head. “I’m good,” he murmurs." to "Kenma glares at him. “Tooru is an asshole.”"

Kenma is going to murder Tooru. Actually, he’s going to get Iwaizumi, shove Tooru into a room with him, and see if either of them makes it out alive.

It is the third time that Kenma has woken up out of a sex dream about Iwaizumi that Tooru has accidentally projected into his head. Iwaizumi’s a pretty good looking guy, but Kenma does _not_ want to dream about him like this, certainly not when Kenma can’t even have sex with _his own damn boyfriend_.

Worse yet, when Tooru has a sex dream, Akaashi has a sex dream, and when Akaashi has a sex dream, the air gets thick with pheromones and it just makes everything worse for all of them. It’s becoming clear, though, that the usual walk of shame in the morning as they all pretend nothing happened is not getting them ahead.

Really, Kenma has been extraordinarily patient with the whole situation, but there’s only so much frustration he can take, and if anyone can rile him up, it’s Tooru.

He pulls on his gloves and socks. He pulls on a hoodie, tucks it in so it won’t ride up, and pulls the hood up and his shirt over his face. Then he bounds over to Tooru’s bed, pillow in hand and hits him over the head repeatedly. “Will. You. Fucking. _Stop_ ,” he growls, between smacks.

Tooru shrieks, starting up. Akaashi rolls awake, blinking owlishly at the commotion.

Kenma smothers Tooru with the pillow. “Get! Laid!” he snaps.

Tooru scrabbles at the pillow, yelling muffled into it.

Kenma lets up, satisfied that his message has been delivered properly. He rolls back onto his own bed.

“Rude!” Tooru yells, chucking his own pillow at Kenma. Kenma just glares at him silently. “I can’t help my own dreams! You should be happy, at least you can finally experience some real sex!”

There’s a sudden silence in the room. Tooru seems to realize that he’s crossed a line, the instant backpedaling apparent on his face. “Kozume-san,” Akaashi murmurs from the other bed, but Kenma just grabs a pair of pants from his shelf and leaves the room, slamming the door behind him.

He gets dressed in the bathroom and leaves the Institute, calling Tetsurou as he does so. He doesn’t even bother to check the time. “Tell Koutarou to leave the room. I don’t care what you have to bribe him with.”

“ _Kitten, it’s like… two in the morning?”_ Tetsurou’s sleepy voice says on the other end of the line.

“I don’t care,” Kenma growls and hangs up.

When he gets to the dorm, Koutarou is long gone. Tetsurou tries to ask what’s wrong, but Kenma just fixes him with a glare. “Get on the bed,” he snaps, pulling open the drawer of Tetsurou’s nightstand.

“Ok,” Tetsurou says, and does as he’s told, sitting down. “Do you want me to…” He pulls at the bottom of his shirt. Kenma nods, and Tetsurou pulls off the shirt. There’s still a box of latex gloves in Tetsurou’s drawer, as well as some lube and a length of rope, because Tetsurou has only once tried to grab Kenma in the heat of the moment, but Kenma’s life flashed before his eyes and he’s committed to it never happening again.

He watches from the corner of his eye as Tetsurou slides out of his sweatpants. Kenma waits for him to pull it off, then pushes Tetsurou back and loops the rope around his wrists and the bedposts. He tests the ropes gently. “Not too tight?” he asks.

Tetsurou shakes his head. “I’m good,” he murmurs.

Kenma pulls off his usual gloves and slides the latex gloves on, pulling them tight against the tips of his fingers. He lubes them up, going straight for Tetsurou’s cock. Usually, he keeps on the usual gloves as he runs his fingers up and down Tetsurou’s body, but tonight he’s just so _frustrated_.

It’s not _fair_ that he can’t touch his boyfriend. That he can’t have any _real_ sex. That he can’t ever _taste_ Tetsurou.

He grits his teeth and settles into the motions that he knows Tetsurou likes, running his fingers along the underside and circling them around the crown until Tetsurou is nice and hard. He brings his eyes up, watching as Tetsurou shudders with an aborted moan. It’s not enough. It’s not _enough_.

He drizzles more lube on his fingers, and slides one finger into Tetsurou without preamble, watching as Tetsurou’s breath hitches. He closes his eyes, focusing on the sensations. The way that Tetsurou tenses around him. How that might feel around Kenma’s cock.

He could try it with a condom, but it’s just not secure enough, no way to make sure, and after so many years, he’s not sure he could manage to keep his cool enough to be certain not to touch Tetsurou at all. It’s just too much _risk_ and he refuses to risk hurting Tetsurou.

He crooks he finger up with a practiced motion, and Tetsurou gasps as it brushes against his prostate. “Another?” Kenma asks.

Tetsurou nods shakily, hissing slightly as Kenma shoves in another finger beside the first. He knows it has to sting, so he takes it slow, pumping the fingers in and out, watching as Tetsurou’s eyes go glassy and he curves into it.

Kenma waits for his head to fall back with a sigh before he starts scissoring. He curls his fingers again, and this time Tetsurou gives a low groan, arching even further. Kenma alternates his fingers, keeping up a steady assault on Tetsurou’s prostate, watching quietly as Tetsurou’s hips jerk more and more frantically, the jumbled whimpers and moans spilling from his lips coming faster and higher.

Tetsurou comes with a groan that rolls through both of them, heels digging into the bed as his back bows. He spills all over his chest. Kenma unzips his own jeans, positioning his own legs so that they press Tetsurou’s down before he pulls his dick out. He jerks himself quickly, eyes fixed on Tetsurou’s dark ones.

He shudders as he comes, white hot, eyes closing for a moment, all over Tetsurou’s chest. Tetsurou moans a little at it.

Kenma takes a second to catch his breath, tucking himself back quickly and falling back to sit onto his heels.

“So… are you ever going to tell my why you decided you needed to finger my brains out at two thirty in the morning?” Tetsurou asks, grinning.

Kenma glares at him. “Tooru is an asshole.”

“Ah,” Tetsurou says. “That explains everything. Tooru is an asshole, so you need to get in _my_ asshole at precisely two thirty in the morning, on a random Thursday night.” He says it casually, but he’s blushing, as usual. He’s so horribly cute.

“Shut up,” Kenma sighs, pulling Tetsurou’s hands loose and tossing the rope to the side. “He has wet dreams, which means Akaashi and I have wet dreams, because he’s projecting, and…” He looks away.

“I know,” Tetsurou says, pulling Kenma’s hood up so he can cradle Kenma’s head in his hand. “You know, you should get Tooru to fuck me and have him project that into your head.”

Kenma chews on his lip. He’s considered it, honestly.

“I’m kidding. Please don’t make me have sex with Tooru,” Tetsurou says, eyes wide.

Kenma smiles at that. “He’s not that bad,” he mutters. “I know you like him.”

“I _know_ , but he’d be so _smug_ about it, I’d never be able to make his life hell properly again,” Tetsurou whines.

“He’s too tall anyway,” Kenma says, tweaking Tetsurou’s nose affectionately.

“I love you,” Tetsurou says.

He always manages to say it when Kenma’s not expecting it. Kenma looks down, feeling himself go hot as he mutters back a quick, “Love you too.”

Tetsurou grins at him. “Kiss?”

Kenma sighs and gives him a quick peck. It doesn’t escape his attention that Tetsurou flinches a little each time, but it makes Tetsurou happy and it gives Kenma a chance to feel how soft Tetsurou’s lips are under his own, so he allows it.

“You’re terrible,” he grumbles, though, for good measure. It’s best to keep Tetsurou in check, or at least pretend to try.

“You’re one to talk,” Tetsurou laughs. “You owe Kou dinner. Poor guy is sleeping in the common room. I had to drag him out of bed by his ankle. I think he cried a little.”

“Blame it on Akaashi,” Kenma murmurs. “His pheromones make it hard to think. And Koutarou won’t get mad at him.”

“You’re a monster.”

“Shush.”

“Awful.”

“Kuro.”

“How do you sleep at night.”

“I think it’s obvious that I _don’t_ because my roommate is an _asshole_.” It occurs to him that he just stormed out and didn’t tell Tooru anything about where he was going. He pulls his phone out. He has fifteen new texts from Tooru. “He’s freaking out because I left.”

“Did you tell him where you were going?” Tetsurou says severely.

“No,” Kenma replies with a sigh.

“Kenma…”

“I’m texting him. Go clean up.”

He scrolls through Tooru’s texts.

**_i shouldn’t have said that._ **

**_i'm sorry._ **

**_please answer me._ **

**_you're ok right._ **

**_kenma don’t die in a ditch somewhere bc i said something stupid. (_ ** **_ಥ_ ** **_﹏_ ** **_ಥ_ ** **_)_ **

**_i would hate myself forever._ **

**_i already hate myself oh my god._ **

**_i'm trying to get over iwachan but everything’s terrible and i'm terrible and please come home._ ** **_｡゜_ ** **_(_ ** **_｀Д´_ ** **_)_ ** **_゜｡_ **

**_are you having sex with your boyfriend._ ** **_◉_ ** **___ ** **_◉_ **

**_i'm freaking out and you’re having sex with your boyfriend OMG._ ** **_ಠ_ ** **_╭╮_ ** **_ಠ_ **

**_that is so rude we are ALL sexually frustrated here honestly._ ** **_ლ_ ** **_(_ ** **_ಠ_ ** **_益_ ** **_ಠ_ ** **_ლ_ ** **_)_ **

**_you’re the worst._** **_ಠ_** ** ___** ** _ಠ_**

**_no you’re not that’s totally fair but please answer me._ **

**_kenma please._ **

**_answeransweransweransweranswer. (;´_ ** **_༎_ ** **_ຶ_ ** **_Д_ ** **_༎_ ** **_ຶ_ ** **_`)_ **

Kenma sighs and simply replies **_No_** and chucks his phone back onto the bed. He sighs and buries himself into Tetsurou’s sheets and breathes in his scent. Tetsurou really smells nice.

Of course, the problem with smelling his sheets is that it puts him in just the position for Tetsurou to slide on top of him without any risk of touching him, since only his face is uncovered. The air is crushed out of his lungs, and he can feel Tetsurou’s breath thrumming against his back, and Tetsurou is _everywhere_ and it’s lovely. “Kuro, no,” he chokes out, for show, and after a while Tetsurou rolls off of him with a laugh. He’s not wearing a shirt, and his sweatpants are low on his waist.

“Put on a shirt, I want to cuddle,” Kenma says, tossing a shirt at Tetsurou. Tetsurou grins and pulls the shirt on. Kenma shimmies beside him, nestling his head into the dip of his shoulder. He pulls the edge of the shirt up and runs his fingers along Tetsurou’s hip bones. His gloves are soft enough that he can feel the dents of the bones and muscles, but he wishes he could feel the goosebumps his touches leave and the texture of the little mole on his waist has.

He hates that no matter how he strategizes, he still can’t seem to satisfy himself. There’s just the slightest gap between him and everyone else that can’t be bridged. It’s fine with everyone else, preferable, really, but not with Tetsurou.

“I love you,” he whispers, and hears Tetsurou draw a quick breath in through his teeth. Kenma rarely says it first. He doesn’t have to. They both know.

“I love you too,” Tetsurou whispers.

Kenma can hear the birds chirping in the distance by the time he decides to go to sleep, rolling off the bed. Tetsurou stops him. “You could stay. We’d wake up if you touched me anyway, and there’s barely any chance…”

“I’m not risking it,” Kenma says firmly. The thought that Tetsurou could roll over and touch his face, or that his shirt could ride up, or that he might tilt his head up too far… it’s too much. It makes him feel cold, to think that he could wake up to find that he’d hurt Tetsurou, maybe even killed him…

He takes one of Tetsurou’s pillows and lays down on the floor. Tetsurou knows better than to argue, but he gives Kenma his blanket. Kenma, in exchange, extends his hand, gripping Tetsurou’s own tightly, and they fall asleep like that, hand in hand.

-X-

Koutarou gets back at ungodly early in the morning, and tries to be quiet until he knocks over a stack of books, gets himself tangled in the curtains, and trips over the desk, flooding the room with light and noise. Tetsurou and Kenma groan at once, hands slipping apart so they can cover their face.

Kenma rolls over and pulls the covers over his head. Koutarou is apologizing too profusely for Kenma to fall back asleep, but Kenma doesn’t want to remember that the sun exists just now. Tetsurou nudges him with his foot and Kenma groans at him in response.

“Come on, Kenma, you’ve got class anyway,” Tetsurou says.

“No,” Kenma mutters.

“Kenma.”

“No.”

“Keeeenmaaaaa.”

“No.”

Tetsurou yanks the covers away from him, despite his best efforts. “Class,” Tetsurou says, a smug little smile on his face. Kenma glares at him. “Come on, up.”

He drags Kenma up, and Kenma lets all his limbs go limp in retaliation. Tetsurou pretends to drop him, leaving Kenma pedaling desperately to stay up. Tetsurou grabs him before he hits the floor, walking him to the nightstand, where Kenma keeps his toothbrush. “Brush and go,” he says.

Kenma sighs and relents. He does need to get to class.

-X-

He barely manages to stay awake in class, and after class, Tooru catches up with him. “Ken-chaaaan!” he cries, sing-song voice grating along Kenma’s ears. He’s more obnoxious when he’s worried.

He huffs out a sigh and glares back at Tooru, who grins at him. “I’m so glad I caught you!” he chirps. Kenma raises an eyebrow at him. Tooru deflates a little, though it’s nearly imperceptible, since Tooru’s cheery moods are always at least in part for show. “I really am sorry for what I said yesterday.”

“It’s fine. I know you’re still upset about Iwaizumi,” Kenma says.

“I…” Tooru says, as though he’s wavering between trying to play it off and being honest. His eyes slide to the side and his shoulders slump. “Yeah. I really am.”

Kenma doesn’t say anything. It’s best to let Tooru share at his own pace.

“I’m not just avoiding him in case I think something lewd around him. It… it hurts to know for sure that he’s not interested.”

Kenma puts a hand on Tooru’s face and pinches his cheek a little before it twists into a sob. “He’s an idiot. He should be in love with you.”

A smile flickers over Tooru’s face, but the façade is crumbling quickly. “I can’t stop thinking about him,” Tooru whispers, voice cracking. Kenma flicks his hood up and carefully pulls Tooru into a hug. Tooru’s neck bows and Kenma can feel his shoulders shake. “I’ve been in love with him for _so long_ , how do you get over that? And I can’t even act like anything’s _wrong_ because I’m too scared to tell him.”

Kenma tries to think how he’d get over Tetsurou if they were to ever break up, or if Tetsurou hadn’t returned his feelings in the first place, but he comes up blank. “I don’t know, Tooru,” he whispers. “I’m sorry.”

He lets Tooru cry, even though he’s pretty sure he’s got tears and snot all over his hoodie at this point. He sighs and turns to the side, and, by way of some ridiculous chance, his eyes meet with Iwaizumi’s.

He looks… well… Kenma can’t quite place it. Sad, maybe, or apologetic. Mostly, his eyes say, _I know he’s struggling. I’m trying to give him time._ Kenma nods a little, and lets Iwaizumi walk away without telling Tooru he saw. Instead, he strokes Tooru’s hair a little, lets him gasp in a few breaths to calm himself.

“Sorry,” Tooru says, a little sheepishly, rubbing at his face. “I’m being so lame! Wet dreams and crying… What am I, thirteen?”

“More like five,” Kenma says dryly.

“Mean!” Tooru says, poking out his tongue.

Kenma rolls his eyes. “I’m getting lunch,” he says.

“Oh, me too! I’ll come with you!”

“Do you have to?”

“Ruuuuude!”

-X-

Oikawa’s dreams stop leaking over as much over the next week. Kenma only has to throw a pillow at him three times. They settle back into a sort of rhythm, Tooru studying at the desk, Akaashi curled up with a book in the window and Kenma studying from his laptop on his bed.

Akaashi comes with him whenever he has lunch with Koutarou and Tetsurou, and he seems to have warmed up to Tetsurou considerably ever since the night they spent together. Occasionally, they’re a little too close, even, and if it was anyone but Akaashi, Kenma might be a little upset about it.

But it is Akaashi, and Kenma also feels warm when he looks at Akaashi, and Akaashi is so honestly in love with everyone who is kind to him, which is painfully endearing, so it’s not exactly a catastrophe. And while Koutarou and Tetsurou seem to think there’s nothing between them, there’s a good reason that Kenma chose Koutarou as their extra sexual partner. More precisely, there’s nothing between them that would come between Kenma and Tetsurou, which is good enough.

He wonders if what he feels for Akaashi, and what Akaashi feels for him and possibly Tetsurou is also something that falls into that category. He’s fairly certain it does, especially with the way that Akaashi is totally enamored with Koutarou.

Kenma sighs. He’s not opposed to having three boyfriends of varying degrees, but it’s too many _variables_ this way and it’s so difficult to bring up.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Tetsurou says gently, bumping against him.

“I’m thinking I could eat this entire sandwich in under thirty seconds!” Koutarou cries.

“Not _you_ ,” Tetsurou snaps, rolling his eyes.

“Bokuto-san, that is the dumbest idea you’ve had this week,” Akaashi mutters, rubbing at his temples. “And there have been many contenders.”

“Akaaaaaaashiiiiii,” Koutarou wails, but he’s grinning as he says it.

Akaashi is getting unforgivingly blunt and they’re all encouraging him a little too much, Kenma thinks. It shows he’s not worried about them turning on him, sure, but he’s also getting a little too sure of himself. The last thing they need is another Tooru.

Kenma finds himself smiling at that. Akaashi simply isn’t flashy enough to be Tooru, and a quiet, slightly shy Tooru would actually be pretty adorable.

“Now he’s smiling to himself…” Tetsurou gasps. “Guys, I think Kenma’s been replaced.” Kenma slaps him over the back of the head, glaring. “I was mistaken,” Tetsurou says, in a somber monotone.

“Baby,” Kenma mutters. It wasn’t a hard smack. It never is.

“Darling,” Tetsurou purrs.

Kenma groans and sinks his face into his hands. “Why are you so _embarrassing_.”

“You love meee.”

“Of course I love you, but you’re _so lame._ ”

“But I’m _your_ lame.”

Kenma shoves him out of the booth.

-X-

When Akaashi and Kenma get home, Kenma can hear, without a shadow of a doubt, that Shoyo is over.

This poses a few problems.

Firstly, Kenma really likes Shoyo and would like to say hi. Shoyo is fun to watch and he’s always so friendly that it brightens Kenma’s day to see him.

However, secondly, Shoyo is generally around Kageyama, which is not a place where Kenma likes to be.

Thirdly, and most importantly, Shoyo being over is a catastrophe waiting to happen. It’s an unspoken rule that no one brings up that the Institute is full of mutants. It’s sort of a lowkey secret, so that they’re not advertising themselves, but everyone who comes to the Institute regularly figures it out anyway.

Shoyo… Shoyo is not figuring it out. It’s actually incredible to what degree he’s managed to not figure it out.

Since he’s primarily Kageyama’s friend, Suga has been gently prodding Kageyama to tell him before he gets hurt. Kageyama refuses to admit that Shoyo’s his friend, though honestly Kenma thinks he’s just worried that Shoyo will react badly.

Kenma sighs and heads towards the yelling. Akaashi frowns, but follows him. Shoyo and Kageyama are on the couch, shouting at each other, Shoyo on top of Kageyama. “Come on! Tell me why you’re always wearing sunglasses!” Shoyo is shouting, as Kageyama does his best to shove him off. Shoyo is faster than him, though, and it’s not going well. “Is it to look cool? It’s super lame, Bakageyama!”

Kenma takes pity on Kageyama. “Hi, Shoyo,” he says.

Shoyo bounds up, grinning. “Kenma!” he cries, tumbling off of Kageyama, who’s red as a beet.

He goes to hug Kenma, but Kenma darts back.

“Oh! Right! Personal space!” Shoyo laughs. He notices Akaashi standing beside Kenma. “Ah! You’re new!”

“Um… yes,” Akaashi says. “Akaashi Keiji.”

“Hinata Shoyo!” Shoyo says, extending his hand. Akaashi takes it gingerly. “I go to school with Kageyama!”

 _He doesn’t know_ , Kenma mouths over Shoyo’s head.

“Nice to meet you,” Akaashi says.

Within moments, Shoyo is bombarding him with questions. _When did you move in? Do you like it here? It’s so cool in this house I want to live here! What’s your favorite movie? Have you seen the gardens?_ Akaashi flounders at first, but before long he’s warmed up to Shoyo as well. It’s a talent of Shoyo’s.

It also gives Kageyama a chance to collect himself. Kenma gives him a severe look. Sooner or later, Shoyo’s going to find out. He’d rather it wasn’t through a terrible accident, like yanking off Kageyama’s glasses and getting a face full of laser. Kageyama avoids his look with a huff, and Kenma decides to get Suga on it. Again.

“Anyway, Kageyama,” Shoyo says. “I’d really like to see your eyes. I bet they look nice.”

“S… shut up, dumbass!” Kageyama snaps. “We still need to study.”

Kenma laughs. “See you two later,” he says, following Akaashi up the stairs.

“He really doesn’t know?” Akaashi says as they get to their hall.

“He has no idea,” Kenma mutters. “He’s kind of oblivious sometimes.” He stops as his phone rings. “Ah. Kuro’s calling me. I’ll be there in a second.”

Akaashi hums and keeps walking.

“ _Hey kitten. You left your PSP with me._ ”

“What? Seriously?” Kenma says, patting his pockets. He sighs. This is what happens when he tries to be social properly instead of playing his games while they’re hanging out. “Ugh… fine. I’ve been wanting to play with my GameBoy for a while, you can give it to me tomorrow.”

“ _Getting nostalgic, are we?”_ Tetsurou teases.

There’s a loud crash from their room, and Kenma looks up, freezing. There’s silence. “I’ve got to go,” he says, hanging up his phone and putting it in his pocket. He slides one glove off, just in case, but he slips the hand behind his back in case he’s overreacting.

Their door is still hanging open, and Kenma slips into the room, trying to take it all in at once. There’s a man, dressed in black, unfamiliar, at the foot of Tooru’s bed. Tooru’s foot is sticking out from behind the bed, but the rest of him isn’t visible. He’s not moving. Akaashi is slumped over the stranger’s arm, but Kenma can’t make out if he’s awake or not, but it seems he managed to kick over a lamp earlier.

Kenma leaps forward, planting his uncovered hand on the man’s face. It takes approximately three seconds for him to knock someone out, but this time, in those three seconds, the man swings around, dropping Akaashi, but swinging Kenma into the drawer with appalling strength.

Kenma hears the snapping before he feels it.

The pain is blinding. He can’t move, can’t think, doesn’t even manage to scream. He collapses, and he pulls the stranger with him. He fails to move his hand away, because as they fall, the man falls onto him, shoving his head into the corner of the drawer. Things go agonizingly fuzzy.

Things are happening, but Kenma doesn’t know anything but the pain. He thinks that maybe Akaashi stumbles to his feet, and then the weight is lifted off of him. His hands flails out, trying to communicate the pain, the terrible, crushing pain, but instead it collides with someone else.

His spine clicks back into place with a crunch and he quickly pulls away, gasping. “Sorry,” he mumbles. Everything is still really fuzzy. There are thoughts in his head that feel foreign, buzzing…

There’s someone beside him, gasping and trying to clamber to his feet, but Kenma can’t remember his name for some reason _(Ukai?)_ , there’s so many memories clamoring in his head, new names, names he knows but hasn’t heard before, and they’re so distant but _everywhere_ at once. He tries to grab onto the bed, but the bed feels like it’s made of hollow paper, and he nearly lifts it instead.

“Oikawa-san!” someone is yelling, someone who’s stumbling and nearly passed out. The target. No, Akaashi. Akaashi Keiji, his friend.

Kenma stumbles to his feet. “Is he ok?” he croaks. He’s unsteady. He grabs a bedpost. Breaks it off. Something is very strange.

He staggers past Akaashi, who has curled in on himself, whimpering, breaths ragged, and reaches out to touch… touch… Tooru? Tooru.

He stops himself just in time. He remembers breaking the bedpost. He’s not wearing his gloves. “Tooru,” he manages. “Tooru!”

As he blinks away the flurries of confusion, he can see that at least Tooru’s still moving, though he has his arms up around his head and the only noises that leave his mouth are pained little breaths.

Ukai catches up to him, shoving Kenma aside gently and kneeling beside Tooru. “Hey,” he says. “Hey, Oikawa, are you ok?”

Tooru lets out a muffled whimper and shakes his head, his arms moving with the motion, still grasping his face. “Iwa-chan,” he whispers. “I want Iwa-chan. I’m scared.” His leg twitches and he lets out a quick cry, curling further in on himself, hands twisted tightly in his hair.

Kenma pulls out his phone. The screen breaks in his hand, so he tosses it on the bed and pulls out Tooru’s, treating it like it was made of eggshells. Like this, he manages to call Iwaizumi.

“Finally, Shittykawa,” Iwaizumi’s growl comes. “Are you ready to talk, already?”

“It’s Kenma,” Kenma says. “Uh… Kozume Kenma. Tooru’s… Tooru’s roommate.”

There’s a moment of tense silence. “What did he do?” Iwaizumi says, but his voice is worried.

“Nothing. There was a break in.” He glances at the stranger, realizes that he hasn’t moved for a long time. “He’s hurt. He’s asking for you.” Hasn’t moved at all. Not a muscle.

“I’ll be there in a few minutes,” Iwaizumi says, but Kenma’s already hanging up.

He doesn’t rush over. He doesn’t run. He already knows what’s happened. He can feel it. He stands over the stranger. The body. He’s not breathing.

Kenma feels oddly numb. The phone clatters from his fingers.

“He’s dead,” he says, and he wishes he could have bothered to sound a bit more regretful.

Ukai looks up from where he’s pulling Tooru into his arms. “It wasn’t your fault,” he says. “We’ll deal with it later. Help me get Akaashi to the infirmary.”

Kenma nods, and he pulls on his missing glove before he sinks beside Akaashi, who has stumbled back against the bed and is breathing heavily, sniffling as he tries and fails to hold back tears. He wipes the tears from Akaashi’s face, watching the boy’s shoulders shake, curling in on himself, gasping for breath. _Eggshells_ , Kenma reminds himself, and he pulls Akaashi into his arms with ease and carries him to the infirmary.

If Ukai is shocked by his new strength, he doesn’t show it.

Kenma lays Akaashi into one of the beds, finds a chair to sit in, and then he shuts down.

There are things going on, people yelling, voices, motions, but Kenma can’t manage to pay attention to any of it.

The first thing he’s aware of is Tetsurou’s fingers curling around his wrists. “Hey, kitten,” he whispers.

Kenma looks into his eyes. There’s something horrifyingly innocent about Tetsurou, despite his intelligence and wit. It’s terrifying to think that Kenma could crush him with ease, suck the life from him. Kenma wishes it was the other way around, that he could lay his own life into Tetsurou’s hands every time they come near each other. Tetsurou’s life seems to precious, too fragile to be constantly shoved into Kenma’s hands. “I killed him,” he says.

“I know, they told me,” Tetsurou says gently. “But you know, if you hadn’t grabbed on to Ukai, sounds like you’d be dead as well.” His voice shakes a little as he says it, and Kenma thinks it’s odd that Tetsurou has more of a reaction to Kenma’s spine having just snapped not long ago than Kenma does.

“I don’t… feel bad about it, I don’t think,” Kenma says. He doesn’t feel much of anything.

“That’s shock, kitten,” Tetsurou replies. “It’s a hell of a drug. But it wasn’t your fault. It was an accident. And because of you, Akaashi is still here.”

“Is he ok?” Kenma asks, trying to shake the fuzziness from his head. “Tooru?”

“They’re really sick,” Tetsurou says. “Shimizu can’t figure it out. We’re giving Tooru painkillers but it’s just not… it’s not working.”

Kenma stands. He still feels queasy. Vague memories flit through his head. They’re not his. “I think… I think I know what’s going on.”

Tetsurou watches him carefully as he makes his way back into the room, but he doesn’t suggest that Kenma take any more time to worry about himself. He stops beside Akaashi’s bed. Koutarou is curled up beside him, and Akaashi is burying his face into his thigh while Koutarou strokes his hair. “Keiji,” Kenma breathes, and Akaashi jerks at the sound. “I need you to tell me how you feel. Precisely.”

Koutarou moves to protest, shielding Akaashi with his legs, but Akaashi clambers over his knee. He looks awful, face twisted, pale, tears staining his cheeks. “I don’t know,” he whispers. His voice is horribly faint.

“Tell me what you do know.”

Akaashi rubs at his face. “I feel awful. And frightened, and sad, and it’s too hot and too cold at the same time and…” He clings to Koutarou’s leg, shaking his head. “It’s just… too much…”

“That man, he injected you with something, right?” Kenma doesn’t know how he knows that, just knows.

Akaashi nods.

Kenma takes a deep breath. He makes his way to Tooru’s bed. Iwaizumi pulls Tooru a little closer, a defensive look on his face. They’re laying side by side, Tooru pulled tight against his chest. Tooru’s eyes are open, unseeing, glassy, and his hands are white knuckled in Iwaizumi’s shirt.

A soft litany of _pleasepleaseIwachanpleasemakeitstoppleasehurts_ spills from Tooru, as though he’s forgotten what it means, just wants it to stop hurting, any way it can.

“I think whatever he gave them is using their own powers against them,” Kenma says, holding up his hands to show Iwaizumi as he pulls his gloves off. “If I take his powers it should stop.”

Iwaizumi watches him warily for a moment. “That’ll hurt him too, though, right?”

“It’ll knock him out, probably for a good while,” Kenma says.

“It’s not so bad,” Tetsurou says, with a nervous grin. Kenma can’t tell if he’s lying or not.

Iwaizumi shifts, and Tooru lets out a desperate keen, tucking his face into Iwaizumi’s chest. Iwaizumi bites his lip, but he shifts again to let Kenma get closer. Kenma pulls off his glove and settles the tips of his fingers against Tooru’s cheek.

Tooru tries to jerk away, but Iwaizumi holds him steady, stroking his hair until Tooru’s eyes roll back into his head and he goes limp, breath evening out. Kenma pulls his hand away. Everyone flinches. Kenma takes a moment to realize why, but then he sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose.

He’s absorbed Tooru’s powers before, he knows how to control them, he just needs to remain calm. His heartbeat evens out, and everyone around him relaxes. “You ok?” Tetsurou asks.

Kenma nods.

“Could you… for me, as well?” Akaashi says quietly.

Kenma blinks at him. He nods, though he’s a little wary of adding a third mix of feelings and powers to the mix of things swirling in his head. But he shuffles over to Akaashi’s bed. Koutarou hauls Akaashi into his arms, holding him steady as Kenma presses his fingers to Akaashi’s cheek. His skin is so soft, and Kenma wants to kiss him, but he’s not sure now is the best time.

Akaashi’s eyes fix onto his, and they’re so beautiful, his lashes blanketing them as his eyes flutter closed. Kenma jerks away.

Akaashi’s memories are more vivid than the rest, the face of a man with large, rimmed glasses, holding a syringe, ignoring Akaashi’s pleading of _I’ll be good, please, I won’t use my powers, please…_ , his arms strapped down, the leering faces over him laughing, repeating garbled medical phrases as everything fades into a sickening cocktail of emotions…

…Kenma passes out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next week: I descend into IwaOi hell because I'm honestly just Oikawa trash.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is the most self-indulgent, off topic chapter that I have ever written.
> 
> Explicit smut is from "“So, twenty minutes?” Hajime says" to "He’s been so ready for this for so long"

Hajime isn’t stupid, despite what Oikawa likes to tease him with. He knows that Oikawa has been avoiding him for going on three weeks now, and he knows that it started right after Oikawa’s… well… particularly loud fantasy.

Hajime has spent those three weeks constantly hunched over his phone. They text like nothing’s happened, but after every other text, Hajime finds himself typing out, _You weren’t joking, were you,_ and _I’m sorry, I lied, I do think about you like that,_ and _I love you too_ and then erasing each of them. Sometimes he considers calling. Walking over to the Institute and demanding that Oikawa just _talk_ to him.

And yet he keeps thinking back to the way Oikawa’s face twisted into a grin, the blasé way he said it was all just a joke, that he was just thinking of what _Iiiiiwachaaaan_  was thinking, and Hajime looses his nerve. If he walks over there and confesses to Oikawa and Oikawa looks him in the eyes and tells him he really _was_ joking after all… Hajime doesn’t know what he’d do.

When he sees Oikawa crying in the hallway with Kozume, he thinks for a moment that he’s going to finally manage to get one of those texts out. Why would Oikawa be crying if he wasn’t struggling with the same feelings as Hajime?

Hajime’s fingers keep lingering over his phone. He can’t bring himself to send it. Thousands of what-ifs whirl in his mind. He can’t manage a rejection from Oikawa. Hell, even spending the rest of his life secretly in love with Oikawa as Oikawa settles down with someone else would hurt less than having to look his best friend in the eyes as he tells him, in no uncertain terms, that he doesn’t love him. Not like that.

When Oikawa calls, he’s still hovering over a half written text, and his mouth is dry when he answers. It gets even drier when he realizes it’s not Oikawa.

Hajime has never run faster in his life. He’s still wheezing when he gets down to the infirmary, passing Kozume, who’s hunched over in his chair, staring at the floor, and the new kid, curled up in one of the beds, trying to keep his breathing steady, until finds himself perched over Oikawa.

He can see the pain and tension in every movement Oikawa makes, even as he curls around himself, turned away from Hajime. “What’s wrong with him?” he asks. His heart is pounding in his mouth.

“We don’t know. We’re giving him painkillers, but it’s not helping,” Shimizu tells him.

Oikawa shudders, a quiet cry breaking from his mouth and wrenching a cliff into Hajime’s chest. Oikawa curls his fingers into his hair, shaking. Hajime can’t see his face, but he can see the coiling muscles in Oikawa’s shoulders. “Iwa-chan…” Oikawa sobs, and Hajime feels himself crumbling.

“I’m here,” he says softly, pulling Oikawa around to look at him. There are teartracks down Oikawa’s face, and he melts into Hajime’s touch with a fountain of whimpers bubbling from his lips.

“Iwa-chan, it hurts, please…” he croaks, and it’s dripping from each syllable, so much so that Hajime can feel it, feel the pain radiating through his own body. “Make it stop.”

Hajime hushes him, running his fingers along Oikawa’s cheeks to brush away the tears. “You’re gonna be ok,” he whispers. “It’s ok, you’re gonna be ok.”

“Make it stop, please, it hurts,” Oikawa begs.

Hajime just slides into bed with him, holding him close, as though he can protect Oikawa from the pain like this, shield him somehow. The tears keep flowing, and the pleading and whimpering fall into a soft, repetitive litany that slowly rends Hajime’s chest in two.

Hajime isn’t sure if he lets Kozume take Oikawa’s powers because it’s their best option or just because he can’t bare to hear Oikawa like this any more.

Oikawa wakes over the span of one and a half days. His powers seem to fade in and out as he wakes, and that seems to come with varying amounts of pain, first for Oikawa, then after a while for Hajime too. Hajime spends the time either coaxing a little food into Oikawa, combing his hands through Oikawa’s hair or taking in the room. He doesn’t often come here. Oikawa prefers to keep Hajime separate from his life at the Institute, instead visiting Hajime in his dorm room.

Oikawa’s third has a big _I want to believe_ poster. There’s glow in the dark stars on the ceiling above his bed and a stack of books on his bedside table, one a paperback, used sci-fi book and the rest astrophysics textbooks. His covers have little stars on them.

Across from him, Kenma has a triforce sticker, a multitude of post-it notes, and a pokeball tacked up on his wall. His games are stacked across the bookself by him, as well as a bunch of pictures of him with Kuroo and Bokuto. Akaashi’s third is the most sparse, with one shelf for clothes, a large drawing of a horned owl, and a laptop and a literature textbook tossed on the bed.

It’s… homey. Hajime wishes Oikawa was more comfortable with him being here, in this space that Oikawa’s made his own, powers and all.

 Slowly, Oikawa seems to come back to himself. Or at least he seems to be aware of Hajime at this point. Hajime can tell, because Oikawa’s confused thoughts are sliding in and out of Hajime’s own head.

It’s… certainly an experience, seeing himself from Oikawa’s perspective, especially when Oikawa is feeling awful and Hajime is cuddling him. From the thoughts that Hajime picks up on, Oikawa sees him as some kind of invincibly strong and muscular knight that’s capable of protecting Oikawa from everything, even his own stupid head.

If Oikawa was awake, Hajime would probably hit him. As is, he’s left lying here, Oikawa’s hands kneading his shirt as he sleeps restlessly. Hajime didn’t think it was possible to blush so much for so long.

Worse yet, Oikawa keeps thinking about kissing him. No, not even. That might be slightly merciful. He keeps thinking about Hajime kissing _him_ , which is something that Hajime is _not_ willing to do. Not until Oikawa wakes up and they talk this damn thing over.

But hell if he doesn’t _want_ to.

Ironically, he’s asleep when Oikawa wakes up properly. He opens his eyes to find Oikawa’s wide ones fixed on his, blinking sleepily.

“Hey,” he breathes, hand coming up impulsively to cup Oikawa’s face. “Hey, you with me?”

Oikawa nods, uncharacteristically quiet. The rings under his eyes are still dark and he looks kind of bleary. “What happened?”

“Guy broke into the Institute. Got you pretty bad,” Hajime says. _I never want to see you hurt like that again, you hear?_ he doesn’t say.

“Ah,” Oikawa says. “That explains the headache.”

“Yeah.”

Oikawa tries to muster up a cocky grin, but he’s still exhausted, clearly, and his hair is a mess, and the whole thing comes out shaky, like a newborn deer trying to walk. “Was Iwa-chan worried about me?” he coos.

“Tch,” Hajime says, because Oikawa’s acting like he’s teasing but he’s probably actually asking. Hajime doesn’t feel like playing this game. “Of course I was worried about you.”

Oikawa doesn’t have a response to that. Hajime is hyperaware of the fact that Oikawa’s long limbs are still tangled with his own and their faces are so close he can almost taste it. “You’re doing…” he says quietly. He’s not sure how to bring this up so that Oikawa doesn’t panic and shut it down. Oikawa is such a hassle. “… your new power is kind of lame.”

Oikawa blinks at him for a while, uncomprehending. Then he shoots out of Hajime’s arms, sitting up and tangling his fingers in his hair. “Oh my gods,” he whispers. “Oh my _gods._ ”

“It’s…” Hajime starts, but Oikawa, of course, doesn’t let him finish.

“I can explain!” he cries, flinging his arms out, as though he’s half expecting Hajime to hit him.

Hajime raises an eyebrow at him. “No you can’t,” he says.

“I’m sorry!” He flings his arms around his head, definitely expecting Hajime to hit him.

Hajime sighs. “Hey,” he says, as gently as he can manage. Oikawa peeks over one arm. He looks utterly terrified and heartbroken, and Hajime wants nothing more than to wipe that look off his face and never, ever see it again. His apprehension from the past few weeks is overshadowed completely by that desire. “Come here.” He holds out one arm invitingly.

Oikawa leans into it, and Hajime pulls him back onto his chest. His whole body is taut, like he still doesn’t trust Hajime not to hurt him. _Stupidkawa. Like I could ever actually hurt you._

“I should’ve known the first time you weren’t screwing with me. Usually I know not to take you at face value just like that.”

“Iwa-chan, I…” Oikawa chokes out, and he sounds about ready to cry.

“No, let me finish,” Hajime says with a sigh. “I guess I didn’t want to tell you how I felt if you were going to make a joke out of it. And when you started making a joke out of it, I just kind of… decided not to risk it. It was my bad. I chickened out and I shouldn’t have.”

He braves a look at Oikawa, who has shifted to gawk up at him, soft lips curving with some kind of tentative hope. Hajime brushes his finger across them. Oikawa doesn’t so much as breathe, large eyes bright and frightened as he watches Hajime. Emotions flicker across his face, so much more visible than usual.

“I like you,” Hajime says. “I want those things too. I have for a long time.” Something ignites in Oikawa’s eyes, lip quivering as if to ask Hajime to repeat himself, because he can trust that this is really happening. It always surprises Hajime how little Oikawa _actually_ thinks of himself. It shouldn’t be such a shock to him that Hajime is hopelessly in love with him. Why wouldn’t he be?

He steels himself, though. He almost doesn’t want to do this, but he has to be _sure_ , needs to hear it from Oikawa. This isn’t something he can take a chance on. “But,” he says, and he regrets it when he sees pain flicker through Oikawa’s eyes, like his tender heart is shattering before Hajime’s eyes. He’s being scarily silent, but all his emotions are playing out on his face like a it’s a stage.

“Oikawa… Tooru… I want it all with you. Dates, and hand holding, and an apartment, and… I don’t know, a dog, and I want us to promise that ten… twenty… fifty years from now, we’ll still be together, just the two of us, you know? I want everything with you, and if that’s not what you want, if this is just attraction, or… I don’t know, then we’re staying friends.” He lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “All or nothing, you hear?”

Oikawa ( _or rather, Tooru, if Hajime is daring enough to call him_ that) takes a moment to take it in, eyes flickering slowly across Hajime’s face. “I…” he says, and Hajime can see the sobs gather in his throat. “I want everything with you too, Iwa… _Hajime_ ,” he says, the last word a whisper, timid, so unlike Tooru and yet somehow so much like him.

Tooru’s hand slides up to Hajime’s face. He’s shaking, and suddenly everything floods into Hajime’s chest at once, all those years of loving Tooru…

He pulls Tooru just a little closer and rolls so that he’s caged him in with his arms. He watches Tooru’s long lashes flutter, and then ducks down, pressing his lips to Tooru’s. Tooru gives a little whimper that reminds Hajime of all the times that he had to give Tooru a piggyback ride home because he scraped his knee or got scared or was just too upset.

Gods, it kills him a little, but Hajime doesn’t care, this is Tooru, his Tooru, who he’s seen at his worst and his best and who loves the stars and believes in aliens and works his soul out and who’s a little shit and a genius and…

“A dog,” Tooru giggles. “You’re so romantic.”

“You’re obnoxious,” Hajime says, pulling Tooru’s face a little closer.

Kissing him feels so much better than Hajime imagined. Tooru’s body rolls up against his own, their skin pressed tightly against each other, and he’s soft in one way and demanding in another. It’s so _Tooru_ , so dizzyingly so, that Haijme wants to breath him in, devour him. Their kissing is sloppy, desperate, but slow, like waves beating against the sand.

“Wait,” Tooru manages, pushing him away, gasping for breath. “The others. Akaashi, Kenma. Are they ok?”

“Oh,” Hajime says. _Oh yeah. There’s stuff going on that’s not Tooru._ “Yeah, more or less. They’re kind of freaked out.”

Tooru groans. “I should… I should check on them, right?” His hands stroke down Hajime’s collarbone and Hajime wants to tell him to give it a little more time, to just stay a little longer, but he knows that that’s not what Tooru wants him to say, that one of them has to stay strong.

“Yeah,” he breathes, rolling out of bed. Tooru clambers after him, long limbs still a little shaky as Hajime helps him to his feet. It’s honestly adorable.

Tooru leans on him heavily, still rubbing at his temples, but they make it downstairs. Akaashi all but bounds over to Tooru and hugs him tightly. Tooru starts, momentarily unsure of where to put his arms, but eventually he manages to hug Akaashi back. “Hey there,” he says, an amused smile toying at his face. “What’s this?”

“I’m so glad you’re alright, Oikawa-san,” Akaashi says, voice wavering a little. He looks about as bad as Tooru, and Bokuto is trailing behind him nervously as though he might fall over. Hajime is doing the same, so he can’t blame him. “This is all my fault.”

“No it’s not,” Tooru says severely, pulling Akaashi away and gripping his shoulders tightly. “This is most certainly not your fault.”

“They came for me,” Akaashi murmurs.

“Exactly. _They_ , whoever they are, came for you. They came to hurt _you_. Honestly if anyone has the right to be upset, it’s you,” Tooru says. He tangles his hand into Akaashi’s hair, shaking him just a little. “Are _you_ alright?”

“Yes, of course,” Akaashi says, struggling to smile. “Bokuto-san has been here to keep me company.”

Tooru looks at Bokuto, and there’s a moment of silent communication between them. Bokuto’s eyes clearly tell Tooru that Akaashi is not at all alright.

“You’re not alright,” Tooru says, blunt as ever, eyes sharp. Then he’s pulling Akaashi back in and hugging him tightly.

Akaashi freezes for a moment, then his hand comes up to grab the back of Tooru’s shirt, letting a muffled sob into Tooru’s shoulder. Bokuto drapes himself over the back of Akaashi’s shoulders and squeezes both him and Tooru into a tight hug. “I’m terrified,” Hajime can just hear Akaashi mumble. “I thought if I could just get away…”

“We’re going to keep you safe, no matter what it takes, ok?” Bokuto says

“I don’t want anyone else to get hurt,” Akaashi whispers.

“We won’t,” Tooru says. “I’m certainly done with getting hurt, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” Akaashi mumbles.

“Ah. See? Everyone will be fine!”

Hajime rolls his eyes. _What a spectacular plan… Idiot._

Tooru breaks away. “Where’s Kenma?” he asks, looking around as if Kozume is going to pop out from behind the furniture. Though given how Kozume tends to curl up with his games, maybe it’s not a stretch. He’s certainly given Hajime a few scares when he comes over to see Tooru and finds Kozume staring at him from a dark corner, face lit up by his game.

“He has a hearing,” Bokuto says, pulling Akaashi around to cradle his head on his shoulder.

“Hearing?” Tooru says, concerned. “What hearing?”

“The man who broke in,” Hajime says. “He’s dead. Got tangled up with Kozume, and… well.”

“Kenma… killed someone?” Tooru says quietly, looking at Hajime as though he has answers to questions he’s not sure he understands.

“Yeah,” Hajime says. “But we’ve got an X-ray proving pretty well that the guy broke Kozume’s spine in the process, even if he healed it with Ukai’s powers afterwards, so the case shouldn’t get past this hearing.”

“How is he taking it?”

“He seems to be alright,” Akaashi mutters.

“Well,” Bokuto says, blushing when he realizes he said it out loud and everyone is staring at him. “Uh…” He rubs at his neck with the hand he’s not using to hold Akaashi. “Kuroo says Kenma’s trying to avoid him. I mean… Kuroo’s still with him at his hearing, so I don’t know how much that’s true, but like… That’s really not normal for them.”

Tooru’s eyes are fixed on Hajime’s, an odd look in them. Hajime wants to tell him to stop, but he doesn’t even know what’s going on, so he just looks away. His cheeks feel way too warm.

“I’ll talk to him,” Tooru says, smiling a little too wide. “I’m sure it’s fine.”

-X-

Tooru waits quietly on the sofa for Kozume to come home ( _if they let him_ ). There’s something thrumming under his skin that Hajime has seen in him before only a few times and still hasn’t managed to understand. He extends his hand, stroking Tooru’s cheek, and Tooru smiles at him, but he looks so tired, so broken somehow.

 _I wish I could take some of that pain somehow_.

Kozume gets back late, in the evening. “How…?” Bokuto starts.

“Justifiable homicide,” Kozume murmurs. He’s more serious than usual, looking very intense in a suit with his gloves. He goes to hurry up the stairs, Kuroo a nervous shadow behind him, but Tooru dashes forward and catches his wrist. Kozume freezes, not a muscle twitching in his whole body.

“We need to talk,” Tooru whispers. “Come outside. Talk with me.”

Kozume sizes him up. Sees the way Tooru is gearing up for a fight, one he won’t be willing to lose. He sighs and relents, following Tooru outside.

Kuroo sinks down beside Hajime. They share a slow look, then both laugh quietly. “Do you ever get used to that? Dating someone who’s living in a world that’s bigger than yours?” Hajime asks.

“Are you finally dating, then?” Kuroo grins. Hajime nods, coughing awkwardly. Kuroo smiles, only slightly bitterly. “Well… yeah. You’ll never stop feeling like you can’t quite keep up, but… it’s not _so_ hard to live with.”

He twists around, looking at Akaashi and Bokuto, sitting twisted together, dozing off on the staircase. They look so decidedly comfortable with each other. “I can’t wait for them to be next,” he mutters.

“They’re not…?”

Kuroo shakes his head. “They’re working on it,” he mutters. “Akaashi’s been through a lot.”

“So I hear,” Hajime murmurs. “Any ideas about who’s looking for him?”

“No. Kenma picked up some memories from the guy who broke in, but he didn’t mention anything. They’ve probably faded by now.” He snorts. “Though Kenma’s not really talking to me right now. I mean… relative to… us. How we usually are.”

“They’re upping the security, though, right?”

Kuroo nods. “They’ve put in heat sensors under the windows, should trip the alarm if anyone tries to get in through there. Kenma thinks the guy flew up.”

“Flew?”

“He was a mutant too.”

“I thought the guy who kept Akaashi was pretty anti-mutant?”

Kuroo shrugs. “Might have just been to keep him in line, you know? Or maybe he didn’t know what was going on either. He was killed too, so… we’ve got nothing.”

“Poor kid,” Hajime says, looking at Akaashi. He’s peaceful now, sleeping on Bokuto’s shoulder, but Hajime can’t help but imagine how he’d feel if he knew that someone was coming for him. Or for Tooru.

Kuroo follows his gaze. “Yeah. But you know, the Institute will do its best to keep him safe. There’s really nowhere more secure he could be.”

Hajime nods.

-X-

He and Kuroo fall asleep on the sofa waiting for Kozume and Tooru to come home. At some point, Bokuto carries Akaashi upstairs, because when Hajime wakes to Tooru’s voice, he doesn’t see them anymore. The few students milling about are gone too, so it must be rather late.

Tooru is shoving a very reluctant Kozume through the kitchen. Hajime nudges Kuroo awake. Kozume is attempting to dig his heels in, but Tooru is sliding him along by leaning against his back and pushing.

Kuroo blinks at them, exchanging a quick questioning look with Hajime.

“Tell him,” Tooru says, sounding very severe.

“Kenma?” Kuroo asks warily.

“Uhhhh…” Kozume says. “I don’t wanna,” he whispers to Tooru.

“ _Tell him_ ,” Tooru repeats, pointing and fixing Kozume with his signature Scary Glare.

Kozume lets out a long, withering sigh. “Kuroo, come here,” he mutters.

“Oook?” Kuroo says, shuffling closer, a suspicious look on his face.

“Put your hands on my shoulders.”

Kuroo does as he’s told, though he’s narrowing his eyes even further in question. Kozume puts his hands on Kuroo’s hips, huffs out a sigh and picks him up without any sign of strain.

“Uh,” Kuroo says, like all the air has been punched out of him, eyes fixed on his feet, then on Kozume. Hajime feels his own eyes go wide.

“Super strength,” Kozume says dryly. “I got it from the break in. It’s… uh… it’s not going away. I’m getting the feeling it’s permanent.”

“Permanent?” Kuroo says, and Hajime is worried his eyes are going to pop straight out of his head. “So you’ve been on edge around me because…”

“I don’t like the thought that I could crush you,” Kozume finishes.

“I don’t know if I hate this or if I’m turned on right now,” Kuroo whispers.

“Kuro. I’m serious, I just got a lot more dangerous. To you, especially,” Kozume grits out.

Hajime isn’t sure he should still be here, but Tooru looks spectacularly entertained and clearly has no intention of leaving.

“Ok no, I’m definitely really turned on now, please put me down before this boner gets out of hand.”

Hajime takes that as his queue to grab his own boyfriend ( _holy shit this is the first time he’s thought of Tooru as his boyfriend_ ) and drag his lame, beaming ass out of the room before this escalates to something that he definitely doesn’t want to see. Tooru has hinted several times that Kozume and Kuroo are creative about their sex and Hajime _does not want to know what that means_.

Kozume groans and tosses him away, sending Kuroo stumbling against the couch with a quiet little _holy shit fuck me_.

“You… _idiot_ ,” Kozume grits out. “Don’t you ever think of yourself? I could _kill_ you and…”

It’s at that point that Hajime manages to drag Tooru out the door, whining “Iiiiiwa-chaaaan I want to watch them fiiiiight…” and slam it shut. Tooru pouts at him.

“Listen, you morbid little shit, we both know that fight is going to be five minutes of fighting and then it’s going to get super sexual and if the two of us are doing or watching anything super sexual there’s not going to be anyone else involved, you deranged pervert.”

Tooru goes beet red, then grins. “Iwa-chan is finally acting like himself!” he cries, throwing up his hands and then throwing them around Hajime. “And now he’s my boyfrieeeend!”

“S… shut up,” Hajime groans, because it’s one thing to _think_ of Tooru as his boyfriend and another to hear it come out in the most annoying (and sadly, endearing) voice Tooru can muster.

“Make me,” Tooru says, his voice dropping a pitch, his eyelashes still fluttering in fake innocence. “ _Hajime_.”

“ _You_ should be resting,” Hajime grumbles. It’s actually just occurred to him. He gets the feeling that now that he’s started this stupid relationship with the first rock, Oikawa’s going to make it into an avalanche, and before Hajime has time to look up they’ll already be on their honeymoon, having sex 24/7. “You just woke up from a minor coma.”

“So I’ve gotten enough sleep already,” Tooru murmurs into Hajime’s ear, voice like liquid sex. “Besides, think of how well I’ll sleep after you’ve fucked me into your bed…”

“Asshole. We’re like… twenty minutes from the dorm, don’t start teasing me now,” Hajime mutters. He’s spent his whole life perfecting the art of knowing when Tooru’s not going to give up, and Hajime honestly doesn’t have the strength to deny Tooru sex if he’s seriously asking, not after spending the entirety of his sexual awakening hoping to some day have sex with Tooru.

“You’ll just have to tease me back when we get there, hmm?” Tooru purrs.

Hajime can’t stop _blushing._ “Shittykawa. Shitty… Tooru. Shittooru…” He sees Tooru start to laugh and he wacks him over the head. “I’ll think of something!”

-X-

“So, twenty minutes?” Hajime says, once they managed to get into his dorm room, blindly groping at the walls as they make out, in the desperate hope that eventually he’ll get to his bed. The taste of Tooru is like lightning across his tongue and he doesn’t particularly want to stop tasting him even long enough to speak.

“I wasn’t serious!” Tooru whines, but Hajime gets an idea of Tooru, whimpering as Hajime squeezes the base of his cock and growling a refusal. It takes him a moment to realize that it’s not his own thought.

He snorts.

“What?” Tooru says.

“Oh, nothing,” Hajime replies, as cloyingly fake-sweet as he can.

Tooru pulls back, gulping. “Iwa-chan, you’re being scary…”

Hajime yanks him into his lap and then deposits him on the bed, leaning over him, straddling his hips. He leans close, just barely brushing his lips against Tooru’s, pressing him back down when Tooru surges up to kiss him again. “Iwa-chaaaaan,” he keens.

“You keep saying that name like a little kid while we’re having sex, I’m going to end up with some really gross kinks,” Hajime whispers against his lips.

A grin flashes through Tooru’s eyes, and he lets his head fall back, his legs spreading. “You want your little baby boy to suck you off, daddy?” he croons.

Hajime smacks him lightly over the head. “Don’t you dare.”

Tooru laughs. “You’d make such a good daddy, with that severe look,” he says, pinching Hajime’s cheeks as Hajime tries not to laugh.

“I swear I will kick you the fuck out, Tooru,” he growls.

Tooru giggles. “Alright, alright, Iwa-chan, no daddy kink…”

“Don’t even think about it,” Hajime says, though now that Tooru’s laughter is fading off, Hajime realizes what a lewd position he’s gotten in, legs spread wide, groin jutting up against Hajime’s back bent so that his chest is practically on display…. He swallows hard.

Hajime slides his hand up Tooru’s shirt and pinches a nipple between his fingers. Tooru gasps, hips rolling up and head falling back. Hajime feels hot shivers travel down his spine. “I do want you to suck me off, though,” he whispers. It feels like so much to ask from someone as incredible as Tooru.

“Get up here,” Tooru says, tilting his head invitingly, squirming up so he’s in a more comfortable position. His eyes are dark and calculating.

“Have you done this before?” Hajime whispers.

“Yeah,” Tooru says. “A few times. I’ve barely got a gag reflex.” He winks at Hajime, who has never managed to take his pants of so quickly in his life.

He’s rock hard by the time he gets his cock to Tooru’s lips. “Are you sure?” he asks. Tooru’s thoughts flash into his head, of Hajime’s hand in his hair, jerking his head up and down his cock.

“Help yourself,” Tooru says, looking nonchalant and sounding anything but.

Hajime does so, sliding in slowly, watching Tooru’s eyes as he pushes forward. Tooru’s eyes don’t show a sliver of discomfort, so he closes his eyes and takes a moment to enjoy the heat of it. Tooru’s tongue flickers against the head, and Hajime lets his eyes flutter open. “Shit, Tooru,” he whispers.

Tooru’s eyes meet his, as though he’s trying to get a point across. Thankfully, Hajime doesn’t have to exert himself, because Tooru is very vividly and eagerly thinking of choking on Hajime’s cock. Hajime gives his hair a quick tug to warn him, then shoves all the way in. Tooru chokes and moans at once, head jerked back. His eyes flutter closed for a moment, hands coming up to grab Hajime’s thighs, then slide back open, looking glazed.

“Want me to fuck your mouth, Tooru?”

The resounding moan vibrates around his cock like a dream. He groans, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. “Alright, have it your way,” he grumbles. “But after this I’m going to be gentle with you until you _cry_ , you hear?”

Tooru’s eyes twinkle, and Hajime rolls his own before he gives a hard thrust. Tooru’s throat clenches around him, little sounds sending flurries of pleasure up Hajime’s cock. “ _Fuck_ , Tooru, you feel amazing.”

He knows he’s not going to last long, so he curls his fingers into Tooru’s soft hair and makes his thrusts quick and hard, until Tooru’s head is lolling against his hand, moans growing louder with each thrust. As he feels the crest, he shoves his dick as far as it can go and wrenches Tooru’s head back, coming hot and hard.

The resounding moan he gets is sweeter than any music.

He pulls out, rubbing his fingers over Tooru’s spit slicked lips, sliding down to straddle Tooru once again. Tooru watches him blearily, sucking his thumb between his teeth and licking at it. Hajime feels his whole body go hot. “Shit, Tooru,” he whispers.

Tooru takes his distraction as a moment to roll his hips up, back curving as he chases his own relief against Hajime’s thigh. Hajime pins his hips down with strong arms, looking straight into Tooru’s eyes and, with a blank face, whispering, “You’re not coming ‘til daddy lets you, baby boy.”

“No!” Tooru shrieks, flinging a pillow into Hajime’s head. “Iwa-chan you disgusting old man!”

Hajime laughs, wrenching the pillow from Tooru’s hands and smothering him with it. Tooru’s arms flail out to hit him, but he doesn’t let up until he hears Tooru giggling. He discards the pillow, cupping his boyfriend’s smiling face in his hands. Tooru’s giggles die down, and he gazes up at Hajime, eyes beautifully open.

“I love you,” Hajime whispers.

Tooru’s mouth drops open slightly, and a helpless, “I love you,” rolls out of it, seemingly unbidden.

Hajime dips down to kiss him softly. He can taste himself on Tooru’s lips, but underneath, he can still taste Tooru, sweet and tender beneath him. When he pulls back, Tooru is all but melted into his touch, and Hajime nearly melts with him.

“Iwa-chan, please,” Tooru whispers.

Hajime does as he asks ( _like always_ ) and pulls his sweatpants off. He takes Tooru in hand and strokes him, slowly, carefully, watching as Tooru’s noises slide into desperate gasps. Just as he sees Tooru arch into the peak, he grasps it tightly at the base, like Tooru’s thoughts showed him, reveling in the half offended, half desperate yelp that Tooru gives.

“I don’t think it’s been twenty minutes yet, do you?” he says softly.

“Iwa-chan, don’t you _dare_ …” Tooru says, though it’s undermined by his tragic squirming as he tries to chase his orgasm.

Hajime grins. “Funny, you seemed to like the thought a lot a few minutes ago,” he teases.

“I didn’t say…” Tooru gasps, when it hits him. “Oh no.”

“Oh yes,” Hajime says.

“Oh, god, you know what I’m thinking! You cheat!”

Hajime grins. “Seems to me like the more you like the thought, the better I hear it, so…” He leans down to growl into Tooru’s ear. “How do you want me to take you?”

Tooru doesn’t manage to get a hold of his thoughts before there’s a position clearly in his mind. Hajime laughs and flips Tooru onto his stomach. “N-not fair,” Tooru gasps, as Hajime drags his ass up so he’s on his knees, face pressed into the pillows. “Iwa-chan knows exactly how to get me…” His whines are even higher pitched than usual as Hajime kneeds at his thighs. “I wanna know what does it for Iwa-ch… AH!”

He squeaks and jerks as Hajime runs his tongue along Tooru’s hole.

“Tooru,” Hajime says, leaning out far enough to meet Tooru’s glassy eyes, his cheeks rosy and his mouth hanging open as small sounds tumble out of it. “Trust me, this _all_ does it for me. _You_ do it for me.”

He dives back in, licking and sucking until Tooru has his face shoved into the pillows, fingers twisting blindly into the covers, letting out barely muffled cries. Hajime leans over to grab the lube he has stashed away into his drawer. He slicks up his fingers with a gratuituous amount of lube and slowly, painstakingly slides a single finger in.

Tooru gives a long groan. Hajime pumps the finger gently, until Tooru relaxes into the touch, shoulders uncoiling. He adds another, and curls them into Tooru’s prostate. The noise Tooru makes is small and helpless, and Hajime is getting hard again.

He rubs insistently at the nub, until Tooru is squirming, adding another finger as he goes. “Ah…” Tooru manages. “I’m s-so close, Hajime, please…”

Hajime keeps going, until Tooru’s mouth curves around a small cry, body tensing with how close he is…

Hajime pulls his fingers out.

Tooru gives an outraged cry, twisting around so he can give Hajime a look that’s stuck somewhere between outrage and horror. “You… you _assh…”_ he grits out, but Hajime just flips him over and leans over him. Tooru goes quiet, eyes wide.

“This is how I like it,” Hajime says quietly, grabbing the condom stuck in his open drawer.

Tooru’s breath hitches, watching silently as Hajime rolls the condom on, lubes it up, and slides into Tooru without a single pause. His mouth drops open, eyes wavering, but staying fixed on Hajime’s as though he feels he’s not allowed to look away. “M… move,” he whimpers. “Please.”

Hajime gives him one thrust, agonizingly slow, and lowers his mouth to Tooru’s chest. He places kisses there, soft, quick kisses, and keeps thrusting, as slow and steady as he can. Tooru’s hands come up to tangle into Hajime’s hair, noises growing even sweeter, aborted little sobs, whispers of Hajime’s name that vanish as the air is punched from Tooru’s chest.

Hajime leans up to kiss Tooru, then hovers above him, foreheads pressed together. Tooru’s face is slack, eyes shimmering and desperate. It’s like Hajime has finally managed to crack open all the layers Tooru pulls around himself to protect what lies beneath and now Tooru, the Tooru who doesn’t think he’s worth any of this affection, is spilling through the cracks, manifesting himself in tears that are about to roll down Tooru’s face. “You’re so beautiful,” Hajime whispers. “Incredible.”

Tooru gasps, trying to push into Hajime’s dick, trying to get him to speed up. Hajime grabs his hips and pins them down, continuing with his snail’s pace. Tooru seems to notice what Hajime’s doing, and he gives one last desperate attempt to keep himself intact. Hajime knows, without a shadow of a doubt, that even now, Tooru is frightened that if he unwravels around Hajime, Hajime will turn him away when he sees this side of Tooru. “Fuck me like you mean it,” Tooru hisses.

“I am,” Hajime breathes back. “It’s just that you’re not getting what I mean.”

He angles the next thrust a little better, leaving Tooru to arch into it, overwhelmed by the pleasure. His throat clenches around the moan and it comes out as a whimper.

“I mean, Tooru,” Hajime continues. “That I love you. That you’re beautiful. So beautiful. You’re so graceful, and when you’re focused you’re so intense it’s scary, and when you’re just being a little shit you’re so _fucking_ adorable that I don’t even know what to _do_ with you. You give me chest pains, honestly.”

Tooru breathes a little laugh at that, though the next thrust leaves him clawing at Hajime’s back, the pale expanse of his neck laid bare for Hajime. He kisses that too.

“And god, you’re amazing at everything you do. You put so much _effort_ into everything and you come out so confident, like everything is just _easy_ to you and it is, because you’re awesome and you learn everything to the maximum. It’s an honor just to watch you.”

“Faster, Hajime, please…” Tooru whines, but Hajime knows he just doesn’t want to accept it, wants Hajime to be as rough with him as he thinks he deserves. Hajime doesn’t mind indulging him, but he’s always been the one to know when to draw the line for Tooru’s need to drive himself into the ground. The line has been drawn now, too, and Tooru’s begging won’t budge it.

“I’m not done yet,” he says sharply, and Tooru squirms underneath him. “You’re a good person, too.”

Tooru lets out a muffled sob, but he’s so far gone he doesn’t seem to be able to protest. _Perfect,_ Hajime thinks.

“No matter how much of an asshole you try to be, people _see_ it, and they won’t say it, because you can’t _fucking_ bring yourself to believe it, so you just get obnoxious, but… gods, Tooru, you’re kind, and you think of people, and you see them so completely. You trust them and you refuse to let hem down. You’re a good, kind person, Tooru, you’re incredible.”

“Hajime, please!” Tooru cries, tears dripping down his cheeks. “Please, please, I need…”

Hajime wraps his arms around Tooru and squeezes him tight, speeding up his thrusts, keeping them deep and hard. “I love you,” he whispers. “I fucking love you and I’m going to love you forever, no matter how much you manage to hate yourself.” He clutches him a little tighter. “I love you so much, sweetheart.”

Tooru screams as he comes, his whole body practically shaking apart in Hajime’s grip, fingers twisted in his hair and his long legs going everywhere. He clenches hard around Hajime, and it tips Hajime over the edge too as his second orgasm flickers through his body.

He comes down slowly, ears ringing. Tooru is gasping and sobbing under him. He pulls himself out, Tooru shuddering with the motion, and discards the condom quickly, leaning over Tooru and wiping away his tears, kissing his nose and forehead until he catches his breath.

“I like it better when Iwa-chan is mean to me,” Tooru whispers.

Hajime laughs. “I warned you, idiot,” he murmurs, kissing Tooru. “And now you’re going to rest, or I’ll punch you.”

He grabs a tissue and cleans Tooru off, curling around him protectively and stroking his hair. He’s been so ready for this for so long, it feels natural, like they’ve been together for years. They’re quiet, tangled together, until Tooru’s breaths go soft and his limbs uncoil.

Hajime stays awake for a while longer, watching Tooru’s face and smiling. He falls asleep with his face buried in Tooru’s soft hair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Headcanon that they continue to make fun of the daddy kink until they accidentally end up with an actual daddy kink and then they have to stop having sex for a week to think about their lives and choices.
> 
> On the next time: Akaashi makes questionable life choices because I'm apparently incapable of writing things without tumbling into multichapter angst fests.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haha wow you have no idea how many times I edited this chapter.

“You coming for lunch?” Kozume asks.

“Are you going now?” Keiji replies, looking up from his book. Kozume is aggressively playing at his DS.

“Kuro’s coming any minute now.”

“You don’t seem happy about it,” Keiji remarks, closing the book.

Kozume sighs. “I’m pissed at him.”

“Ah,” Keiji says, with a wry smile. “So when you stormed in at two in the morning for latex gloves, I assume that was to teach him a lesson?”

Kozume looks up for a split second to glare at him. “You’re spending too much time with Tooru,” he mutters.

Keiji smirks. He gets up from his own bed and deposits himself on Kozume’s. “What’s happening between you two?”

“Nothing,” Kozume mutters.

“Kenma,” Keiji says, and he’s startled at how intensely  the air between them is charged with the smallest change in names. It rolls over his tongue like something sweet. Kenma’s fingers still over the buttons.

“The chances of him getting hurt by being with me are just getting higher and he doesn’t seem to _care_ ,” Kenma mutters, not looking up.

“I assume it’s because loosing you would hurt him more than anything else you could do to him.”

Kenma still doesn’t look up at that, rather looks further away. “His name was Akamatsu Hiro,” he mutters. “He wasn’t a very good man, from what I can tell, but he’s dead. And I didn’t mean for it to happen, it just happened.”

“Kenma…” Keiji whispers, taking his hand.

“What if something like that had happened with Kuro? What if you’d gotten tangled up with us when we fell?  I could have killed you. I could kill _him_. And now it’s even _worse_ , because I think I’ve figured out how to touch things lightly, but what if I forget? Slip up? I could snap your arms with two fingers, Akaashi.”

Keiji smiles slightly at his family name. Though he’s crossed a line with Kenma, Kenma won’t cross the line with him until he’s said he’s ready. “You saved my life, Kenma. Not just this last time, but with everything you and the others have done for me. So you’re a little dangerous. I don’t mind.”

“I couldn’t stand to hurt him,” Kenma whispers, after a long pause. “He’s more precious to me than anything.”

“It’s worth the risk. For me, and certainly for Kuroo-san.”

Kenma is looking at him now, and Keiji’s breath is unsteady against his cheek. He raises a shaking hand to Kenma’s face, turning him so that he can look him in the eyes. He has the most golden eyes. “May I?” he breathes, though he’s too scared to take another breath.

Kenma nods, quiet. Keiji kisses him. His lips are soft and part ever so slightly in the moment, but Keiji’s heart jumps, then plummets, and he almost pitches forward instead of pulling away, feeling as though he’s run a marathon. “It really isn’t so bad,” he murmurs, smiling.

The corners of Kenma’s lips twitch. Keiji’s heart is still beating erratically at his chest, and he feels strangely dizzy.

He glances at the door and suddenly his heart is beating even faster.

They left the door open. Kuroo’s eyes are wide, and Keiji can see the pain clearly in them. Kenma follows his wide eyes, and leaps to his feet when he sees Kuroo. “Kuro,” he breathes, the apology ready, but Kuroo just turns and shuts the door behind him.

Kenma scrambles over the bed and dashes after him, leaving Keiji to sit on the bed, sick to his stomach. The peace of mind he’s gathered in the past few weeks seems to vanish in the blink of an eye. His father’s… no… _that man’s_ words ring in his ears.

_You manipulative piece of shit. You’re only really good for one thing._

He can’t breathe. He slides off the bed and cradles his head in his hands, tears clawing his way up his throat. He twists, clasping his arms around his middle, pressing hard. He’s not getting any air, he can’t _breathe_ , gods, he’s…

Gentle hands settle around his shoulders. “Hey,” a deep voice says. Kuroo. “Hey, breathe.” His hands are gentle as they rub along his back. Keiji whimpers as he tucks his head between his knees. Gods, he’s so _pathetic_ that Kuroo is comforting him even though he must be _furious_.

“I’m so sorry,” he chokes out.

“Don’t be,” Kuroo says softly. “I’m not mad.”

“I kissed him, it’s my fault, I…”

“Akaashi… seriously, I’m not angry. With either of you.”

“It’s my fault,” Keiji says, because he doesn’t understand, he doesn’t get why Kuroo’s being gentle when Keiji has trespassed on his life and made a move on his boyfriend. “I’m messed up, clearly I don’t know how to repay people without resorting to…”

“Hey,” Kuroo says, and now his voice is sharp. “Don’t. Don’t do that to yourself.”

“It didn’t mean… it didn’t mean anything,” Keiji hiccups.

“Shh, it’s ok,” Kuroo says, pulling him close and stroking his head. Keiji shudders, but he manages to pull his head out from between his knees and let it fall into Kuroo’s lap instead. “What Kenma and I have isn’t something that’s gonna be shaken by something like this. It’s ok. I’ve kissed other people too. It’s… kind of shocking, seeing him trust someone that much, but… it’s alright. It’s not your fault.”

“But…” Keiji croaks.

Kuroo shakes his head. “He’s scared. I know he’s scared. No matter how cautious he is, no matter how much he knows I think he’s worth it, he’ll always be scared. I’m only human after all,” he says, snorting a little. Keiji can hear a small sliver of pain in that snort, the way he says _human._ “It’s the one bridge between us we can’t really gap. And it’s a bridge that doesn’t exist between the two of you. You know what it’s like to be a mutant. I never will. I can’t. Him connecting with you… it’s not unlike what we have with Kou.”

Keiji sniffles, wiping his nose with his wrist. “He loves you. More than anything, much more than me.”

“I know,” Kuroo says. “But there’s been a few too many reminders lately that we’re… we’re really different, in a lot of ways. In ways that sometimes make it hard to be together.” He looks down at his feet. He looks small again. “It’s nothing we haven’t come up against before. We can handle it.”

Keiji nods.

“And honestly adding you to the mix has been pretty good.” Kuroo’s smile is a little worn, but gentle.

Kuroo’s phone goes off like a shriek, and they both jump. Kuroo pulls it out and picks up. “Hey Kou. Yeah, I know we’re late, we had a… little something to deal with.” He looks at Keiji and smiles ever so slightly.

Keiji sends him back a grateful smile. He’s not sure he wants Bokuto to know about this, but if he does find out, Keiji wants to tell him properly.

Kuroo sighs, standing up and extending his hands to Keiji. Keiji slides his own hands into Kuroo’s. Kuroo’s fingers are longer than his, coarse, but his motions are tender as he pulls Keiji up and stands him up.

They join Kenma downstairs. Kenma just pats Keiji on the back and starts walking. Keiji suddenly feels less like a third wheel between two of them and more like he’s enveloped in their relationship. They’re both quiet, but their hands are intertwined, and Keiji thinks that Kuroo is right in believing they’re going to be ok.

Bokuto is practically bouncing on his seat when they finally get to the restaurant, and he latches onto Keiji the moment he gets in. Despite how comfortable he’s getting with the others, this is where he feels the most comfortable.

Bokuto smells like paint and chalk and something that reminds Keiji of sunrises. His hugs are always careful, but still a little too tight, like he’s just too excited to let Keiji go. His shoulders are wide and his smiles are wider, and Keiji leans into his arms as they talk, the few strands of loose hair falling out of Bokuto’s spikes soft against his face.

“We’re going to head over to the dorm, Kou,” Kuroo says, glancing at Kenma.

“Okay,” Bokuto says. Then he realizes that Kuroo is trying to give him a subtle look. “Oh! Right. Yeah, I’ll… uh…” He looks at Keiji desperately.

“Would you like to go on a walk, Bokuto-san?” Keiji suggests, smiling at the relief that puts on Bokuto’s face.

They walk hand in hand down to the nearest park. Children are playing in the distance, a few pidgeons spiral around them, the clouds in the sky soft and fluffy. Keiji wants to capture this moment and live in it forever.

He’s so calm that the confession slips out in a rush. “I kissed Kuroo,” he blurts. He shakes his head as Bokuto’s head whips around, eyes wide. “I mean… no. I kissed Kenma.” He’s blushing terribly, and there’s a tremor in the hand that Bokuto holds so tightly. “I think… I think I’d like to kiss Kuroo. I mean, I have kissed Kuroo, but just as a goodnight peck from Kenma, and I’d like to kiss him… seriously.”

Bokuto is quiet, bizarrely quiet for a while. They’ve stopped walking, just the silence between the two of them as Bokuto stares at him and Keiji does his best not to look back. Then Bokuto laughs, honest and clear as ever. “Well, I’ve kissed Kuroo, and I’d like to kiss Kenma, so I guess we’re completing each other again!”

Keiji gawks at him. It surprises him, how blindingly positive Bokuto can be. It’s no wonder he can’t pick himself up sometimes. Keiji would be exhausted if he tried to be half as optimistic as Bokuto.

Bokuto’s grin evens out, eyes curving into a wide innocence as he looks at Keiji. “You want to kiss me too, though, right?”

“Desperately, Bokuto-san,” Keiji whispers.

They’re silent, and the air between them is more charged than Keiji’s ever felt. It was so simple, so natural to kiss Kenma, and yet here he is, with a boy that he loves more than life itself, and he can’t manage to do it again. He’s too frightened of breaking something, too frightened of doing it wrong. He wishes that he could have a thousand first kisses with Bokuto, just so he can get it perfect, as perfect as Bokuto deserves.

“Akaashi…” Bokuto breathes, and he seems as scared as Keiji. At least even now, even in this, they are together.

“Keiji,” Keiji whispers.

Bokuto’s eyes shoot up from where they’d been inspecting Keiji’s lips, mouth curling into a question mark, eyes flickering with a hundred, a thousand emotions.

“My parents are the only ones who call me that,” Keiji whispers. “I didn’t have the heart to tell them that the name they gave me was never once used as a kindness in all the years I was gone from them, but…”

He can almost taste Bokuto, they’re so close. The air that Bokuto breathes is the air that Keiji breathes. “Bokuto-san… I would like you to be the first to call me Keiji with my permission. I’d like you to take my name and make it as bright and beautiful as you are.”

He runs his thumb along the pink that rises along Bokuto’s cheeks. “Keiji,” he whispers, so reverent that it hurts. “Keiji, Keiji…”

“Koutarou,” Keiji croaks. It feels like water on his dry tongue. Koutarou hisses in a sharp breath, his own hands on Keiji’s hot cheeks.

Seconds crawl by, but they can’t seem to cross the gap. Keiji can’t bring together enough daring, and it seems neither can Koutarou. Keiji wants to at least whisper _I love you_ , but all that manages to come out is another strangled _Koutarou_.

Eventually, he turns away. “Perhaps… a bit later, Bo… Koutarou,” he gasps.

“Okay,” Koutarou says, then grins. “Keiji.”

Keiji’s lips curl into a smile despite himself. “Koutarou.”

Koutarou lets out a loud cackle, so very Koutarou. “Keiji! Your name is almost as pretty as you are!”

Keiji blushes, laughing as Koutarou rubs his nose against Keiji’s, and then twists his arm further around Keiji’s and pulls him forward. “Come on, my favorite bench is up there!” he cries, dragging a laughing Keiji after him.

-X-

In the evening, as usual, Keiji calls his parents. He’s getting used to his mother’s voice on the phone before he sleeps. Her voice is firm, but gentle. His father’s voice, though less frequent, is deep and quiet. Keiji can hear his own voice in theirs, and it makes him feel at home.

“You’re quieter today, Keiji,” his mother says. “Did something else happen?”

_Something else_ , because Keiji gave his parents another scare only a few days ago. Keiji finds his his heart speeds up thinking about it. They came for him in this room, through the window over Oikawa’s bed. Though he knows logically that they’ve upped security since, he’s still scared. Kenma and Oikawa are still away, but he hopes they’ll be back soon.

“No, Okasan,” he says. “It’s just love troubles today.”

She laughs. “Ah, good! It’s good to have a few normal troubles to take your mind off things. Which one is it?”

“All of them,” Keiji says with a smile. It makes his mother laugh again, and that makes him smile.

“Ah, dear, you hear? Our Keiji is so in demand…”

Keiji’s father laughs in the distance. “He takes after you in so many ways,” Keiji hears him tease.

“He’s right, you know. Your Okasan was quite the heartbreaker in the good old days. Tell me all about it.”

Keiji tells her the situation as much as he can manage without wanting to curl into nothingness.

“Ah. Kissed one boy, refrained from kissing the second and failed to kiss the third, and all in one day,” his mother chuckles when he’s done. “Goodness, you are making up for lost time, aren’t you?”

Keiji smiles to himself. “It would seem so.”

“I needed five tries before I managed to kiss your mother, you’re behind,” his father interjects.

Keiji laughs. “Thank you, Otousan, that does make me feel better.”

The door clicks as Oikawa shuffles into the room, limping slightly. There are hickies all over his neck and he falls over into the bed the moment he gets in and doesn’t move. Keiji covers the phone with one hand. “You’re looking… happy, Oikawa-san.”

Oikawa looks up at him with a glare. “Iwa-chan is a monster,” he moans. He looks exhausted.

Keiji smirks. “I should go, Oikawa-san came home and I believe he’s about to fall asleep.”

“I’m so glad you’re not alone. Though even though I like know you’re safe, I miss seeing your face. You should come over soon! I’ll bake you a cake. And bring your three boyfriends!”

“Okasan…” Keiji mutters, though he’s smiling. “Please.”

“Oh, dear, am I embarrassing my little Keiji?” she says, without a single emotion or apology in her tone. Keiji figures his dry humor is from her too, somehow. “Get some sleep, my Keiji.”

“Yes, Okasan,” he says. “Goodnight. And goodnight to Otousan as well.”

“Goodnight,” his father says.

“We love you so much.”

“I love you too,” Keiji says. His eyes burn, even though he’s heard and said these words several times by now.

He hangs up and lies back, though he stays up until Kenma gets home. Kenma stumbles in and nearly trips over his own bed. “Shit. Fuck,” he whispers, his speech slightly slurred.

“Are you drunk?” Keiji whispers.

“Yeah, we… sometimes, when things are tense, Kuro and I get drunk and yell at each other from opposite sides of the room,” Kenma mutters. “It’s… I don’t know…” He tumbles over his bed as he tries to take his shoe off. “It’s really dumb but like… we over think things a lot, so… This is… a solution.”

Keiji snorts. “That does sound pretty dumb.”

“Suck on a cock, Akaashi,” Kenma mutters, finally managing to get one shoe off now that he’s sitting on the floor. “No, gods, wait, that was a shitty thing to say.”

Keiji smiles despite himself. “It’s alright. You deserve to let go occasionally.”

Kenma hums, struggling with the laces on his other shoe.

“So are things ok now? Between you two?” Keiji asks, hands curling into his pants unconsciously.

“They will be,” Kenma says, letting out a little _ha_ when he manages to undo his shoelaces. (Keiji does his best not to mention that he hasn’t undone them, just torn them out of their holes.) “We’re… there’s some stuff we never talk about normally, you know? And now they came up, and… it’s shitty.”

“You curse a lot when you’re drunk.”

“That’s Tetsurou’s habit. I think he thinks it makes him look cool.” He snorts. “He’s so not cool. He’s a nerd. You know he started college a year early? Nerd. I love him so much. Just… gods. So much.”

Kenma claws his way onto the bed, seemingly forgetting that he only managed to “untie” the last shoe, but didn’t take it off. Keiji sighs and tugs the shoe off, hauling Kenma all the way onto the bed.

“I love you too,” Kenma mumbles. “You’re a really good person, Keiji. And I hope you get to be happy with Kou, and… and then you guys can be happy with Tetsu and me and we’ll… we’ll all be together. That’d be nice. That’s what… what I want.”

Keiji blinks at him. He waits for Kenma to say something else, but he seems to be asleep. Keiji’s chest feels tight. He wants that too, but it seems like to much to ask from the world. His stomach twists a little at that. He’s struck by the thought that he doesn’t particularly deserve any of them, much less all of them, but he waves it away. He’ll take what he can get, and if that happens to be more than he expects, then that’s a good thing.

He falls asleep contemplating how they could all sleep in the same bed without letting Kenma touch any of them.

-X-

He ends up walking to class alone in the morning. Kenma fixes him with a terrifying glare when he tries to wake him up, then groans, and Keiji decides very, very quickly that he does not want to mess with a hungover Kenma, especially with Kenma’s newfound strength. Oikawa isn’t much better. Keiji only manages to prod him once before Oikawa is hissing, “If you make me move I will bury you in the backyard,” and curling into his blankets.

Keiji doesn’t often walk to class alone, but just this once it’s not so bad. It gives him time to think things over. It occurs to him that he spends very little time alone. That’s comforting to know, but perhaps it’s best that Keiji occasionally take time to himself.

He thinks over the homeworks he still has to do, what classes he’s going to take next semester… He thinks about how Kuroo’s hands are as slender as Kenma’s and still so much longer, and how Koutarou’s nose gets pink in the cold and what his hair looks like when he doesn’t style it.

He gets to class with a smile. He’s happy, even if things are still a bit jumbled. Maybe they really could get something to work between all four of them. Koutarou doesn’t seem to want it, Kenma seems to want it… Perhaps Keiji should talk to Kuroo, see what he thinks. It would be nice to do something, just the two of them, anyway. Keiji spends all his free time with Koutarou and Kenma, mostly, he can surely spare some time for Kuroo as well.

He pulls out his notebook. There’s something sticking out of it. Frowning, he flips it open. It’s an envelope of some kind.

Keiji looks around. Did someone slip this into his bag? It’s not familiar to him, and Kenma and Oikawa never get their things into his space.

Keiji opens it, stomach churning, and slides out the contents.

His blood runs cold. They’re pictures. Pictures of _him_. Him with Koutarou, yesterday, taken from an unfamiliar angle.

As he looks through them, though, his stomach drops even further.

They’re not of him. They’re of _Koutarou_ , after he left Keiji, too, walking back to his dorm. One of them is from the window of their dorm room. Koutarou, sleeping with his limps strewn out around his bed. Kuroo, curled into his pillows.

Keiji feels like the world is spinning out from under him.

There’s a note with the pictures. A printed note, with only an address and a time. A time not far from now. Keiji shoves the pictures back into the envelope with shaking hands, then into his bag, darting out of the room before anyone can see him.

-X-

He walks over to Koutarou’s dorm numbly. He has to talk this over. The pictures are a clear message. Koutarou is in danger. Someone wants Keiji and if they don’t get him, they’re going to hurt Koutarou. Koutarou has to know.

They can figure something out, they have to.

He knocks on the door.

“Come in!” Koutarou’s bright voice says, filtering through the door.

Keiji cracks open the door.

Koutarou and Kuroo are sitting on the floor, wrapped in one blanket. Kuroo looks utterly miserable. His hair isn’t spiked right, and instead it’s everywhere, especially in his eyes.

“What’s up, Keiji?” Koutarou chirps. “I’m calling him Keiji now, he asked me to!” he adds to Kuroo, practically bursting with pride.

“Kou please,” Kuroo mutters, rubbing at his temple. “Quiet. Please.”

Koutarou laughs. “Serves you right for making me rearrange furniture at three in the morning,” he crows.

Kuroo groans, untangling himself from the blanket to stumble over to the nearest trashcan to puke. “They build a barricade every time they get drunk so they don’t end up all over each other,” Koutarou chuckles. “But then they both get too drunk to put it back.” Keiji tries to smile.

Kuroo slumps over, throwing his hand over his eyes. “I think I’m dying,” he croaks.

“See, this is what happens when you’re studying all the time,” Koutarou says, pulling the bag out of the trash and holding it at arms length to tie it off. “You never have any fun and you don’t learn how to deal with hangovers.”

“I don’t think I want to practice this,” Kuroo moans. “I’m gonna die.”

“You’re not gonna die,” Koutarou says, laughing. He leaves for a moment to throw out the trash in the hallway.

“How hungover is Kenma?” Kuroo asks.

“I was too scared to wake him up. He looked a little murderous,” Keiji says. His heart is still pounding in his chest, but he manages to say it steadily enough. Ironically, Kuroo is the least scary Keiji has ever seen him. He looks like a half-drowned cat like this, hair falling randomly over his face, nose scrunching up whenever he sees a little light, curled up on the floor.

“That’s not fair,” Kuroo whines. “Why does he get to sleep through this?”

“Anyway!” Koutarou chirps, as he comes back. Kuroo slaps his hands over his ears and whimpers. “What’d you want, Keiji?”

His smile is so wide, so bright, that Keiji’s words freeze on his tongue. He can’t… he can’t do this to Koutarou. Even if they figure this out, if people keep coming for Keiji, Koutarou will always be in danger. Kuroo and Kenma have been fighting because of him. Kuroo, Kenma, Koutarou… Oikawa… they all had lives before him, and Keiji’s just going to keep messing it up. Koutarou deserves better.

Keiji makes his decision as Koutarou’s smile fades. “Keiji?” he asks, concerned.

Keiji smiles. He’s looking at Koutarou, so it’s not even particularly a fake smile. “Nothing. I just wanted to see you.”

Koutarou blinks at him with those big, earnest eyes, then grins again. “Well, I love seeing you too!” he says.

Keiji closes the distance between them, sliding his arms around Koutarou’s wide shoulders and squeezing tight. Koutarou draws in a tiny, shuddering breath, then squeezes back. Keiji is glad that Kuroo is too hungover to notice the pain that flickers through Keiji’s thoughts at the realization that this might be the last time he ever sees Koutarou again.

“I have to go,” Keiji murmurs. “I still have class.”

Koutarou lets him go with a smile. “You’ll come over later too, right?”

“Yes,” Keiji lies, smiling back.

He feels as though part of him has been wrenched away as he turns to go.

He takes out the address and looks it up on his phone. It’s about fifteen minutes walk from here, around a few abandoned warehouses.

Keiji wanders back to the Institute, takes in all the beautiful windows and the laughter of the younger residents. He gives it a silent thank you, trying to preserve this memory for whatever is to come. At least he got the chance to be happy, even for a little while. It’s more than he ever expected.

He leaves quickly, before he can see anyone he knows and change his mind. This is for Koutarou. He has to do this.

He makes it down to the warehouses just in time. He sends two final texts.

**_I love you both dearly. I wish I could have given you those years back_** , to his parents.

**_I’m sorry. Please try to keep your head up_** , to Koutarou. He can’t bring himself to add _I love you_.

He ducks inside. The man waiting for him is familiar. He was one of the men who loomed over him sometimes when Keiji’s captor took him to the doctor. Keiji’s legs turn to jelly at the sight of him, but he stands his ground.

“Good choice,” the man laughs.

Keiji shudders at the sound. It’s vile, somehow, makes Keiji feel just as violated as when the men he sold himself to leaned over him, touching…

Keiji takes a deep breath, closing his eyes and thinking of Koutarou. He should have kissed him before he left, but at least this way he’ll always have the fantasy, the curiousity to carry him through, to keep him wondering how Koutarou’s lips must have felt.

Someone else grabs him from behind, and a needle slides into his neck. He feels his legs buckle under him, those sick feelings clawing their way through his chest.

_Koutarou. For Koutarou,_ he thinks, and lets the person behind him haul him onto their shoulder as the world slips away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry, really.
> 
> Next week: Honestly, Bokuto is going to mount a one man rescue mission if it kills him. Words chosen carefully. Or not. Also, Kuroo and Kenma have been saying they're going to be fine a LOT lately. I think they've jinxed it. Or have they. Look, all I'm saying here is to prepare for angst.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's Thursday somewhere. (Posting a little early in case I can't get online tomorrow.) This chapter is a little short since I cut it according to events and not so much length. But I did add the BokuKen scene at the end by suggestion of TheGuestGirl, since I realized last minute that it really did fit into the rest of the chapter.

Koutarou is hunched over his calculus textbook when he gets his text. He doesn’t know what it’s about, but immediately his gut is in knots.

He calls Keiji. There’s no reply.

He calls Kenma.

“ _Oh my gods,_ what,” Kenma growls.

“Is Keiji there?” Koutarou blurts.

“ _Not in the room,_ ” Kenma grunts.

“Is he in the Institute?”

“ _I don’t know. Call him._ ”

“Kenma, please, just look. I think something’s wrong, okay?”

There’s a small silence. “ _Alright, I’ll look around and call you back,_ ” Kenma says, the bite fading out of his tone. He hangs up without saying goodbye.

Koutarou shakes Kuroo awake. Kuroo groans at him. “What now?”

“Dude, look at this text,” Koutarou says, shoving the phone in his face. Kuroo blinks, taking the phone away to pull it closer and squint at it.

“Did you guys get in a fight too?” Kuroo asks, handing him back in the phone.

“No, that’s what worries me,” Koutarou replies. **_I’m sorry. Please try to keep your head up_**. What could that mean? Everything was fine.

He tries calling Keiji again. No answer.

“You think maybe it was ‘cause we chickened out yesterday?” he asks Kuroo.

“Dude, I’ve been a little out of it since yesterday, you’re going to have to give me details,” Kuroo says, sighing and pulling on a pair of jeans.

“We almost kissed and we got really, really close and then we agreed maybe we need more time because we just kind of stayed there but like it was ok and now he came over to hug me so I thought things were cool but now he’s sorry and…”

“Kou!” Kuroo snaps. “Chill. You’re right, he’s probably feeling bad about it.”

“But then why won’t he pick up? He’s not in his room, either. Where else would he be?”

“He’s probably somewhere around the Institute. Did you try Kenma?”

“Yeah, he’s looking already.”

His phone rings and he snatches it up, disappointed when it’s not Keiji, then relieved when he realizes it’s Kenma. “Did you find him?” he asks, picking up quickly.

“ _No. No one’s seen him all day. What happened?_ ”

Koutarou repeats everything to Kenma as well.

“ _He does tend to blame himself for things. It’s been a bit of a dramatic few days._ ”

“Ok, but where would he go? When he’s upset he likes to be back in the room.” When he’s upset he likes it when someone is there to play with his hair. When he’s upset he likes to play with his own fingers. When he’s upset he likes to hide his face. When he’s upset he hates to be alone.

“ _Maybe he needed some time to himself. It happens. Keep calling him._ ”

Koutarou does, at first every twenty minutes, then every five. Even if Keiji needs time to himself, at this point he’d pick up, if only to tell Koutarou to calm down. Something is wrong. By now, Kuroo is also getting worried, and he’s on the phone with Kenma.

Koutarou’s heart seems to be beating faster with every unanswered call. _Come on, Keiji. Please pick up, you’re scaring me_.

“Shit, Kenma, I’m getting another call, hold on,” Kuroo’s voice says.

Koutarou feels really detached from it all. He can’t quite feel his fingers, feels tears prickling at his eyes but doesn’t feel like crying, like all that’s just settled into his chest.

“Akaashi-san,” Kuroo breathes, as he picks up the next call.

Koutarou’s head jerks up at that. For a moment, he thinks it’s Keiji, but then he realizes that Kuroo has tacked on a “san,” which means he must be speaking to one of Keiji’s parents. The only number they have outside of Keiji’s is Kuroo’s. The sick feeling in his stomach deepens.

“No, we haven’t heard from him. He’s not with you?”

Koutarou can’t breathe.

“He said what?”

Koutarou can feel his limbs grow heavy, and he slides to the floor. Kuroo’s still talking, but Koutarou doesn’t hear it anymore, barely notices even as Kuroo squats before him, looking concerned.

“He came over to say goodbye,” Koutarou whispers. “He _knew_. He went _back_ , by himself. Why would he do that?”

“Probably got scared,” Kuroo says, his voice gentle. “Whoever’s after him must have threatened him.”

Koutarou shakes his head. “No,” he whispers. “He was already scared. He was scared of going back.”

Kuroo shakes his head. “Kou, come on, whatever you’re thinking…”

“He came over to say goodbye _to me_. He was with _me_ yesterday and today he went back. They threatened him _with me_.”

He stares at Kuroo, willing him to say he’s wrong. He wants to hear it, wants to know that Keiji wouldn’t try to do this for him. Even the thought that Keiji would care that much for him hurts less to know that wherever he is, Keiji is frightened and probably hurt because of Koutarou. Kuroo opens his mouth, but he can’t manage to say anything.

“We’ve got to find him,” Koutarou croaks. He still feels unsteady, still kind of wants to puke, but there’s no time for that. He gets up. “Come on, we’ve got to get to the Institute. Someone there has to be able to help.”

Kuroo doesn’t make a noise, just stands and follows him.

-X-

There’s a scary old guy in a wheelchair in the livingroom when Koutarou and Kuroo get to the Institute. After a moment he realizes this must be the Professor, Koutarou has never seen him about the house, since he lets Ukai run things for the most part.

Kenma and Oikawa are nervously hovering behind him.

“What’s happening?” he whispers to Kenma.

“Professor’s trying to find Akaashi,” Kenma murmurs. “But apparently there’s some interference.”

“Interference?” Koutarou whispers. “What does that mean?”

“It means he’ll keep trying, and Shimada is on the case as well,” Ukai says, arms crossed. “It’s better if you give him some room. You’ll distract him with those nerves of yours.”

“I’m calm!” Koutarou cries, though he’s practically vibrating. He wants to find Keiji as soon as possible. He needs Keiji to be here, in his arms.

“You’re not. Go. Upstairs,” Ukai snaps. “We’ll tell you when we’ve got something, I promise.”

Kenma drags him upstairs and into the room. Koutarou takes in the owl picture over the bed and the soft, polka dotted sheets and sinks into Keiji’s bed. It still smells like him, like shampoo and rainy days and just a hint of flowers. He wants Keiji back so much he aches all over. He’s never felt anything like this before, no matter how intense his moodswings get.

There’s a numb, cold silence in the room that doesn’t do anything to improve Koutarou’s mood. Even Oikawa is deathly silent.

“He texted you,” Kenma whispers suddenly, and he’s fumbling his laptop before Koutarou can bring himself to look at him.

“So?” Koutarou says.

“The phone he’s using was my old phone,” Kenma says, booting up the laptop. “I should be able to track it through my account.”

Koutarou hops up, dashing over to look over Kenma’s shoulder. Kenma leans away, glaring at him. Koutarou murmurs a quick apology and backs up just a little. Kenma pulls up a little map and types something in, frowning slightly.

“Ok,” he says. “Looks like the phone is shot, but I can tell you where it was last.”

“Let’s go!” Koutarou cries, scampering towards the door. Kuroo catches him by the collar.

“Whoa, whoa,” he says. “Kou, come on. We know nothing about who took him. The last guy who went at him had super strength.”

“And could fly,” Kenma murmurs.

“And could… you can fly?”

“I can. But it’s bothersome. Feels weird.”

“So you just…” Kuroo cuts off that thought and shakes his head, quickly returning his attention back to Koutarou. “Anyway. We can’t just storm in. We’ll tell Ukai.”

“And then what?” Koutarou says.

“There’s a group of alums they can gather, and they’ll go get him. They’re trained in combat situations,” Oikawa says.

“How long will that take?”

“A day or two,” Oikawa says.

A day or two. That’s a day or two where they could be doing _who knows what_ to Keiji, and Koutarou won’t be able to do anything to stop it. He remembers Keiji his first night of the Institute, bloodied and deathly frightened of everything. He won’t let that happen again.

But, contrary to popular belief, Koutarou isn’t an idiot. He knows that the others are never going to agree to it, and that Oikawa and Kenma are perfectly capable of stopping him if he tries anything. He jerks out of Kuroo’s grip. “ _Fine_ ,” he growls. “Let’s tell Ukai.”

He sulks about it all night, sulks as Ukai is calling up the team, sulks through dinner. “You should try to get some sleep,” Kuroo says gently.

“Whatever,” Koutarou mutters, throwing himself into Keiji’s bed and pulling his pillow over his head.

They watch him for a while. Hours, probably, but Koutarou can fake being asleep. He waits until he hears Oikawa drop off into a restless sleep, murmuring occasionally. Then Kuroo’s breath evens out where he lies on the floor, holding Kenma’s hand, and finally he feels Kenma’s eyes drop from his back, and his breathing fade into soft snores. He waits just a little longer, then slips out of bed, padding out the door, careful not to make the slightest noise. He knows how easy it is to wake Kuroo, but he’s practiced in the art of letting him sleep in.

He breaks into a run once he’s out the door, down the stairs and into the street. He jogs halfway there, then decides to conserve his strength and walk to the address he’d seen on Kenma’s screen.

_I’m gonna get you back, Keiji_ , he thinks.

The address is a dusty, run down old warehouse. The door is cracked open, and Koutarou slides it all the way open with a quick thrust. He tiptoes in, looking around. The streetlights give everything a haunting glow. He closes the door behind him and nearly screams when he notices there’s someone behind it.

It doesn’t help that it’s Oikawa, with his sharpest, coldest look, which is objectively _terrifying_. “Boo,” he drawls. “You’ve been in the range of my powers for about five minutes, so consider your brain melted. You’re dead. Good job.”

Koutarou shakes himself out of the impulsive cower Oikawa has shoved him into. “S-shut up!” he hisses. “How did you get here so fast?”

“Took a car,” comes Kuroo’s voice behind him. Koutarou jumps. Kuroo all but disappeared into the shadows, unmoving. “You should know by now that everything wakes me up.”

“We’re going home,” Oikawa says, his voice slicing through the night like a knife. “Or you’re going to get us all killed or captured, and Akaashi’s not going to be any better off for it.” He glances around. “Where’s Kenma?”

“Outside,” Kuroo says. “Come on, Kou.” His voice is severe, gruff. It’s the tone of voice he uses when people say something snide about Kenma.

Koutarou’s shoulders slump. “Alright,” he croaks. Oikawa has a point. If they hadn’t been his friends, he would have already been dead and that isn’t going to help Keiji. He can’t even do a rescue mission right.

Oikawa shoves him outside. Kenma’s standing under one of the windows, motionless, phone clutched in his hand with the light pointing downwards. “What’s wrong, Kenma?” Kuroo calls.

Kenma shushes him, and they all frown, creeping up beside Kenma. He’s standing over a trapdoor. One that looks new. The ground above it is torn away. Kenma looks up at Kuroo slowly. “Kuro… what if he’s right here? Right under us, and we just walk away?”

“Kenma, not you too,” Oikawa sighs.

“It’s the middle of the night. There’s no way anyone’s prepared for this. Oikawa and I can take on pretty much anyone…”

“Hey! I’m coming too!” Koutarou cries.

Kuroo opens his mouth to argue, but he seems to see something in Koutarou’s eyes that changes his mind. “Fine,” he says. “But then so am I.”

“Absolutely not,” Kenma says, right as Oikawa says “What, no one’s even _asking_ what I think?” There’s a pause, Kenma’s eyes crackling with anger as he fixes Kuroo with a blank expression. Kuroo’s shoulders are tense as he glares him back down. Oikawa shrinks, as though even he doesn’t want to be the center of attention in a situation as charged as this.

“Oh, is that so?” Kuroo grits out.

“Yes, it is so,” Kenma says.

“Is not.”

“Kuro, don’t be _childish_ , I won’t have you risking your life.” Kenma’s face has almost broken out of the usual monotone to let the anger in his eyes shine through.

“You don’t get to decide these things for me!” Kuroo shouts back. “Besides, you’re not worried about risking your own life.”

“I could snap you in half, Kuro!” Kenma snarls.

Koutarou wants to interject, but he feels like doing so now would be equivalent to stepping into the middle of a cat fight and will only get him hurt.

“I’m not helpless! I know what I’m doing, and I can chose to take the risks that I want to take. I’m going to do this. For Akaashi.” The way he says Akaashi’s name seems to have a kind of ring to it, as though it’s something he’s doing just to rile Kenma up.

Kenma growls and pulls the trapdoor open with one yank, snapping the hinges clean off. “Fine,” he hisses. “Just don’t get hurt.”

“I won’t,” Kuroo mutters. “I promise.”

Kenma drops down into the hatch first, without a second look at Kuroo. “It’s clear,” he whispers back up.

Koutarou darts after him, followed quickly by Oikawa and then Kuroo.

There’s a long hallway ahead of them, slightly dark, pipes running along the concrete walls. It ends in a fork. Again, Kenma leads the way, peeking around one of the corners. “Guards,” he mouths back.

Oikawa dashes after him, and closes his eyes. There’s a sharp pain in Koutarou’s head for a moment, before Oikawa seems to pull the focus in. By the time he gestures for them to follow, the guards are collapsed in front of their respective doors at the end of each hallway. Kenma splits off to one door, and Oikawa takes the other.

“This one says armory,” Oikawa whispers.

“Laboratory,” Kenma murmurs back.

“Probably that one,” Kuroo mutters. “What else would they need mutants for but tests?”

Koutarou wants to throw up, but now is not the time. It doesn’t matter if they’re experimenting on Keiji, what matters is that Koutarou has to get him out, take him home, wrap him in a blanket and never let go again.

Kenma pauses before the door. “There’s a keypad here,” he mutters.

“We don’t know the code,” Oikawa says. “Just tear it off.”

“It’ll probably set off an alarm,” Kenma whispers.

“Just do it,” Kuroo says. “We’ve taken out all the guards we’ve seen so far. How many more can there be?”

Kenma sighs, but he punches into the door and wrenches it out of the wall with he grip he’s made. Sure enough, a loud shrieking starts up, accompanied by flickering red lights. There’s a pop, and something fast and blue darts out of seemingly nowhere and knocks Kenma off his feet. Kenma grabs it and chucks it against the wall.

It’s a blue man, tail swinging along behind him, and the hit seems to have dazed him enough that it takes him a moment to get back to his feet. When he does, though, he poofs out of existence and shows up behind Kenma. Kenma lets out a tiny gasp as the man’s arm wraps around his throat, but he rams him into the doorframe quickly, both of them stumbling.

“Go!” Oikawa cries, focusing on the blue man, as if to use his powers, and muttering a quick _shit_ when he disappears and appears again, this time grabbing Oikawa’s ankle and twisting it out from under him.

Kuroo dashes past them, dragging Koutarou after him. The door pings quietly as they dart through it. There’s a series of doors here too, through the twisting hallways. They dart around one corner before they can stop to find try any of them, the sounds of fighting growing quiet.

“Stick together, alright?” Kuroo whispers, wrenching open one door. It leads to a neon white room, a bed in one corner and some equipment in the other. Koutarou’s stomach lurches again when he notices that some of the equipment, whatever it is, still has blood on it.

They try at least six doors, Koutarou’s stomach dropping even further in each, before they finally find a room where the bed has someone in it. Koutarou leaps into the room, and relief floods him when he recognizes the curly hair and thin frame, then plummets when he takes in his condition.

Keiji’s in a hospital gown, and the area above his right hip is soaked in blood. He’s pale, really pale, and Koutarou is almost frightened to feel for a pulse. It’s there, soft, quick, but it’s there. Koutarou nearly cries.

Keiji’s strapped down, he realizes, and he starts fumbling with the straps as fast as he can. Keiji stirs as he works, but Koutarou doesn’t look at him. The teary reunions need to wait for later.

He hears a faint whimper. “No,” comes Keiji’s voice, weak and hoarse. Koutarou realizes with a jolt that it’s because he’s been screaming. “Please, no more.”

Koutarou glances up at him, and he realizes that Keiji’s head is strapped down as well. He can’t see what’s going on. Koutarou shifts tact quickly, instead leaning over Keiji and stroking his cheek. “Hey hey hey,” he whispers, pulling at the straps above his forehead.

Keiji’s eyes are unfocused, foggy, and it takes a moment before recognition sparks in them. “Koutarou?” he croaks.

“Yeah. I’m gonna get you out of here, don’t worry,” Koutarou says, smiling, even though he really wants to cry.

“No,” Keiji whispers. “No, you were supposed to be _safe_.”

“We’ll be out of here soon,” Koutarou promises. “We’ll both be safe.”

Kuroo leans over to help him with the rest of the restraints. Keiji seems to drift back out of consciousness by the time they get him out. Koutarou pulls him into his arms, wrapping Keiji’s own around his neck.

There’s the unmistakable sound of footsteps in the hallway, and not from where they left Oikawa and Kenma. Kuroo and Koutarou freeze. Koutarou’s grip tightens around Keiji. Whatever happens, he’s not letting go of Keiji.

“I’ll distract him,” Kuroo says. “You get out.”

“What?” Koutarou hisses. “No! I’m not leaving you!”

“I’ll manage. I’m super smart, remember?” Kuroo says with a grin. “Just go, get him to safety. Send Kenma back for me.”

Koutarou tries to protest, but Keiji shifts in his arms, face screwing up in pain. Koutarou grits his teeth, letting out a tiny noise of frustration. “You _better_ not get hurt!” he snaps.

“I won’t,” Kuroo drawls, still grinning. He creeps over to the other door in the room, slipping out. Koutarou waits until he hears a loud crashing, then darts out the door they came from, not slowing down until he’s back to Kenma. He and Oikawa are just picking themselves off the floor.

“Where’s Kuro?” Kenma asks, the moment he’s out, eyes wide.

“Still back there, buying me time,” Koutarou says. “He says go back for him.”

Kenma does so, swooping forward, feet leaving the ground in his haste.

The explosion takes them all by surprise, but it throws Kenma back into the ground as it rushes through the hallway. Koutarou’s ears are still ringing, but he hears Kenma’s anguished cry as he stumbles back to his feet, uncharacteristically fast. “Kuro!” he shrieks. Koutarou stumbles after him, but Oikawa stops him.

“Get Akaashi out of here,” he orders, running after Kenma as Kenma dashes into the burning rubble.

Koutarou does as he’s told, carrying Keiji out the way they came, slinging him over his shoulder as he climbs out of the trapdoor. His mind keeps running through it. Where was Kuroo? Where was the explosion? Did Kuroo make it out?

_He promised_. Kuroo was always meticulous in his promises.

He collapses against the wall of a warehouse two houses over. And waits. Keiji is cold in his arms, so he takes off his jacket and wraps it around his shivering shoulders.

His mind has gone blank, save for _He promised_ and an ever louder chorus of _Nonononono_.

Oikawa’s the one that comes to find him. “We’ve got to take Keiji home,” he whispers.

“Kuroo?” Koutarou wheezes out. He can’t breathe.

Oikawa’s eyes are dark. He can’t quite bring himself to look at Koutarou. “I think you’ll need to get Kenma,” he says, and something inside of Koutarou shatters.

This is where Koutarou’s talents lie, however. His ups and downs are unpredictable, far too high and far too low, but somehow, when everyone else hits rock bottom, he knows how to keep it steady, as though he’s been practicing for it with all his mood swings. He slips Keiji into Oikawa’s arms, making sure that Oikawa cradles his head properly, and returns to the ruins.

“Kenma,” he says quietly, because he can’t manage much more either. He barely picks up on the walk, or the rubble, or the way he feels like the life has been snatched out of him.

He just sees Kenma’s shoulders, the way he’s slumped over, and he doesn’t dare look down, because if there’s a body he doesn’t want to see it. Kuroo is always moving, even in his sleep, kicking and rolling around. Every so often, Koutarou will tuck his feet back in after he’s kicked off his blankets and is shivering.

“Kenma,” he croaks again.

Kenma looks back at him blankly. “No,” he says, as though he’s just noticed he’s here. He crawls forward, palming through some of the nearby rubble. The room they’re in seems to be crumbling to dust, a table in the corner half disintegrated. “No, he’s got to be here somewhere.”

“Oikawa says it’s over.”

Kenma whirls around, eyes flaming. “I don’t care what Tooru says! He’s alive! He promised!” He sees Koutarou’s face, and Koutarou can tell that he knows as well as Koutarou that he’s wrong. “He promised,” he says again weakly. “I’ve just… I’ve just got to look around again.”

He’s on his hands and knees, tugging at rubble in a daze, and Koutarou kneels beside him and grabs his collar. “Kenma. It’s over,” he says, a bit more firmly this time.

Kenma shrugs him off violently and keeps crawling. “It’s not,” he says. Koutarou grabs onto him again, and he darts up, shaking Koutarou away. “It’s not over! It’s not! He’s here somewhere, he has to be! We didn’t find… we didn’t find _anything_.” He grits his teeth, daring Koutarou to argue.

Koutarou doesn’t like to back down from challenges, not when it’s important.

“Kenma,” he says. “Look at this place. It’s dust. There’s nothing to find. It’s over.”

Kenma’s eyes are wide, fixed on Koutarou’s as though he’s waiting for Koutarou to say the words.

“I loved him too,” Koutarou says. “You know I did. Sometimes I think you knew better than me. You know I’d keep looking, if it wasn’t over.”

But it is over. He saw it on Oikawa, certainly sees it on Kenma, whatever Kenma might say.

“It’s not,” Kenma whispers, and now he’s begging Koutarou not to say it, but Koutarou knows that saying the words isn’t what makes them true. He takes Kenma’s hand in his own. He feels blank, all the emotion that usually buzzes around in his head all caving in to a deeper despair. He tugs on Kenma’s hand, and Kenma follows, as though in a dream.

He pulls Kenma into a hug, careful not to touch, even though right now he wants to bury his fingers into Kenma’s long hair and pull him close. It’s always been Kuroo that’s brought them together, but Koutarou can’t say that he hasn’t come to love Kenma as fiercely as Kuroo or Keiji. He’s not sure which will hurt more, finally registering what’s happened or watching Kenma do the same.

“He’s dead, Kenma,” he whispers back. “Kuroo’s dead.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok so this looks bad, I'll admit, but uh... trust the tags, I guess, and don't murder me until next week.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So honestly starting next week because of classes I'll be able to post better on Wednesdays, and since I posted on Wednesday last week I'm just going ahead and making the transition.
> 
> Also, you might notice that there's a chapter number now, but also that this story has become part of a series. That's because I'm wrapping up the first arc of this story, and the second arc will probably be much more Oikawa centric, so I've decided to separate it into another fic. This story won't wrap up every loose end, but I'll continue with part 2 with at most a week hiatus.
> 
> Thank you all for the comments, as usual, I read all of them five thousand times and smile.

Keiji wakes like he’s underwater. There’s a deep pain in his hip, and he’s cold. Very cold. There are voices around him, and they’re familiar, but also not.

He wrenches his eyelids open, but everything is foggy at first.

“Keiji? Darling?” a voice says, soft in his ear.

He tries to focus on the source, but it’s not going very well. Things are still swimming, but he can make out his mother’s face. “Okasan,” he croaks, and his throat feels like sandpaper.

“How are you feeling?” she says, and she’s either stroking his head or he’s hallucinating something crawling over his head.

“Utterly terrible,” he replies, though it occurs to him too late that perhaps it would have worried her less if he had said he was alright.

She laughs, though there’s something painful in it as well. “Well, that’s no surprise,” she says.

Right. Yes. He’d gone back, and people had loomed over him with needles and machines and everything had blurred into a big mess of pain and fear, until Koutarou had appeared. And possibly Kuroo.

Why had Koutarou been there? Koutarou was supposed to stay far away from all that.

“Koutarou?” he whispers.

“I’m here,” comes Koutarou’s voice, and Keiji squirms a little because there’s something _wrong_. He’s too quiet, or possibly too slow, or… something. He’s bending over Keiji too, and he smiles, but that’s wrong too. Keiji wants to cry, because this isn’t right, it’s not right…

“Hey, hey, hey,” Koutarou says, and he’s wiping away tears from Keiji’s face, because apparently Keiji _has_ started crying. His body is not _working right_ and _Koutarou is not right_ and Keiji is frightened. “I’m alright. I’m alright, I promise.”

Keiji’s breath is only coming in hiccups, but Koutarou’s shushing him gently, and his fingers are soft against his skin, and slowly he manages to wake up and catch his breath.

“My hip hurts,” Keiji mutters.

“Do you need more painkillers?”

Keiji fixes him with a look and takes him in slowly. His hair isn’t slicked up, and he looks exhausted. He’s upset. Not in the typical, blow it all out in one go sort of sad, but the sort of bone weary, resigned to sadness sort of sad that Keiji is more accustomed to.

He shakes his head. “What’s happened?” he whispers.

Koutarou chews on his lips nervously for just a fraction of a second before smiling, but Keiji notices. “Nothing,” he says. “Just worried about you. You gave us quite the scare there, Keiji!”

Keiji tries to push himself to sit. Koutarou and his mother are both sitting beside him, but Oikawa is also in the room, sitting across from him. His eyes are sharp when he meets Keiji’s, and there’s something like anger in them.

“Kenma?” Keiji croaks. “Kuroo? Are they alright?”

Koutarou is silent, but he can’t quite meet Keiji’s eyes.

“Akaashi-san,” Oikawa says quietly. “Perhaps we should give them a moment alone.”

“Yes, of course,” his mother says quietly. She lets Oikawa usher her out of the room, leaving Keiji, petrified, next to Koutarou.

“Koutarou,” Keiji breathes. “Is… Kenma, is he…?”

“Kenma’s… ok,” Koutarou mutters.

“Kuroo?” Keiji presses. Koutarou won’t look at him. “Is Kuroo ok? Koutarou, tell me, please…”

Koutarou shakes his head. “He’s gone,” he whispers.

“They took him?” Keiji breathes. He can’t move, can’t look away. He knows, somewhere, what Koutarou is saying, but he’s not ready to hear it, he doesn’t _want_ to hear it…

“No,” Koutarou manages. “No. He’s… gone. Like… permanently.” His golden eyes slide up to meet Keiji’s at last.

Keiji is frozen. It almost seems as though he could just… pretend this isn’t happening. Just look away and refuse to acknowledge it, and then it wouldn’t be true, and Kuroo could still come through the door with his laugh too loud and his grin too snide and his heart too big.

But that’s not how the world works. “No,” he croaks, instead. “No, no, Koutarou, _no_.”

Koutarou just pulls him into his arms. He’s crying, Keiji can tell, but he’s so quiet, unnaturally quiet. Keiji, on the other hand, can hear the cries spilling out his lips grow louder, shaking him, but it doesn’t matter that it hurts and that everyone can probably hear him. Koutarou strokes his hair slowly, his grip tight and warm. Still, he doesn’t try to tell him that things are alright.

Things aren’t alright. Keiji wonders if they’ll ever be.

-X-

It takes a few days before they let him out of bed. Kenma doesn’t come to visit him. Apparently, he’s not speaking to anyone.

There’s a large bandage over the back of his right hip.

“They were drilling for bone marrow, it seems,” Shimizu tells him. “I suppose they were interested in a good DNA sample. I’ve healed the bone, but the wound will take longer to heal over it. It’ll probably scar, I’m afraid to say.”

Keiji doesn’t manage to tell her that there are bigger things to remind him of this latest mistake.

He hobbles up the stairs on his crutches without Koutarou, despite Koutarou’s insistence that he help. Koutarou seems to be the most stable of all of them, even though Keiji can see that Koutarou is hurting more than he and Oikawa are. Keiji keeps trying to turn things around, help Koutarou with his own pain, but he can’t seem to stop crying long enough to do so.

Instead, he has Koutarou drive his parents home. Koutarou and his father seem to get along, and his mother adores Koutarou.

He tries not to think about the fact that his mother also adored Kuroo, and hopes that the kindness of his parents will do some good for Koutarou as well, like it has with Keiji.

Oikawa helps him up the last few steps, and Keiji is too exhausted to fight him. There’s still a gentle rage humming under Oikawa’s skin.

“No one else is going to be ruthless enough to tell you this,” Oikawa says, his voice harsh and soft at once. Keiji swallows. “What happened was done to you, not by you, and I won’t blame you. Not in so many words. But the people who did this, who killed Kuroo, they used your lack of self-worth to do it.” His eyes are chilling as he glares down at Keiji. “Fix it.”

Keiji shudders. Something about Oikawa’s tone is so strange. Keiji can’t place it. He finds himself digging his feet in and huffing. “You would have done the same. For Iwaizumi-san,” he growls.

Oikawa laughs. “Aka-chan, don’t you know? I hate myself,” he says, his voice a sickening sing-song.

With that, he turns, and strolls down the stairs again, leaving Keiji to stare at his retreating back. He takes a deep breath, readjusts mentally and physically, and keeps struggling down the hallway.

He knocks on the door when he gets there, even though it’s his own door. At least, it was. He’s not sure Kenma will want to room with him anymore.

There’s no response, but he shoves the door open anyway.

Kenma doesn’t look up, just keeps playing at his Gameboy. Keiji watches him for a while. “It’s alright if you blame me,” he whispers.

“It’s not,” Kenma says after a moment. “But I do.”

Keiji doesn’t move.

“I blame Koutarou too. And myself. And Kuro.” His hands freeze over the buttons for a moment before going back. “At least that way I feel something.”

Keiji sighs and makes his slow, slow way to Kenma’s bed and sits beside his friend. He doesn’t say anything. There doesn’t seem to be much to say.

“I feel like Kuro spent so much time trying to get me to feel things and do things that without him there’s just nothing left,” Kenma says after a while. “He’s dead, and I haven’t even cried.”

“Think I’ve cried enough for both of us,” Keiji says. He’s close now too. “I can’t stop crying.”

Kenma puts the Gameboy down and looks up at him. “I would have done the same thing. In your place. If they’d threatened Kuroo. And in Koutarou’s place. And Kuroo’s always meticulous about his promises, I suppose he deserves to break one for once.”

There’s silence again for a while. “I don’t hear any forgiveness in there for you,” Keiji murmurs after a while.

Kenma shakes his head. “Every time I got scared about hurting him I’d try to drive him away,” he murmurs. “He hated it, but I did it again, and that’s why we were fighting. That’s why he wouldn’t _listen_ to me.”

Keiji bites his lip. Kenma’s curved over his knees, and his voice is wavering, but Keiji doesn’t think interrupting him will do much. It’s best to let him get it out.

“I guess I really managed to drive him away for good this time, huh?” Kenma says, his voice appallingly bitter. “You know… I always thought for sure I’d kill him. We’d get tangled up or he’d fall on me or something. I used to be scared of it all the time, but if it had, I’d have his memories, still. He’d be a part of me. But like this… he’s just gone. Entirely. Forever.”

“I think the way you two were together, you already have quite a bit of his memories,” Keiji murmurs. “Can you really say he’s not a part of you?”

Kenma draws in a sharp breath that warbles at the very last moment. Keiji smiles and pulls the hood of his hoodie (borrowed from Koutarou) up and pulls Kenma into the crook of his shoulder. He feels the shaking of his thin shoulders, but not a single sound but one tiny, aborted sniffle.

“Good to get it out, huh?” Keiji says softly.

Kenma nods slightly.

They spend hours like that, until finally Kenma sits up, wiping away tears. “I’m glad you’re here,” he whispers.

Keiji smiles. “I am too,” he murmurs.

“How’s your hip?”

“Agonizing,” Keiji says, with a small smile. Kenma chuckles despite himself. “I’ve got painkillers, but every time I step on it, I feel like I might collapse.”

“That sounds terrible.”

“Yes,” Keiji admits. “But it will heal.”

They sit together, Kenma quietly taking his hand. They don’t speak, but somehow Keiji feels that they’re saying what needs to be said. The loss of Kuroo is still bleeding through his chest like white-hot pain, and he can only image what it is like to Kenma. But maybe, even crippled and hurt like this, they’ll manage, as long as Keiji still has Kenma and Koutarou.

He almost whispers _I love you_ , but he doesn’t feel that now is the time, truthful as it may be.

Instead, he waits until they finally fall asleep side by side, backs to one another, both with hoods pulled up just in case.

-X-

The days pass slowly, sluggishly. Winter break rolls around, and Keiji finds himself regretting that he can’t throw himself into studying. Kenma becomes the ghost of the Institute, silent, barely ever seen, deathly pale, but he’s eating whenever Keiji and Oikawa take him back food to the room, which is an improvement.

Koutarou comes over every day, and then starts saying the night.

Keiji realizes that it’s because of all of them, it’s Koutarou that goes home to a room that used to be Kuroo’s. As he breathes in Koutarou’s shampoo, his hair soft and falling across Keiji’s face in lazy waves, he tries to imagine what that must be like, to have to wake to a room full of things that used to be Kuroo’s, in a room that still smells like him, that is hauntingly empty without him.

He buys Koutarou an extra toothbrush to keep among Keiji’s things.

Koutarou is still sturdy beside him, to a point that it’s amazing, but Keiji can see the cracks that this has all left in him. He doesn’t smile as often. He’s quieter. He doesn’t spike his hair anymore. Koutarou was brimming to the brink with light, but there’s no doubt he’s lost a bit of his shine.

Oikawa isn’t home often anymore. He spends his nights with Iwaizumi. When he’s back, he doesn’t tease and jab at Kenma, only halfheartedly does so with Keiji. He and Koutarou occasionally manage to get into the same bickering as they used to, but even that is a ghost of what it once was. With Kuroo dead, everything else feels a little dead as well.

Kenma’s first trip out of the house is to Kuroo’s family, for funeral preparations. “We’ll have to wait nearly a month,” he says when he comes home. “Kuroo has family abroad.”

“There’s not even anything to bury,” he says, late at night. “Everyone’s going to be asking me how I’m doing. I don’t want to go.”

Keiji sleeps next to him that night. They can’t quite fit all three of them in the bed without getting dangerously close to Kenma, so the next night they shove the two beds together and sleep like that, Kenma on one side, Keiji and Koutarou on the other, Kenma’s hand wrapped around Keiji’s while Keiji’s cradled in Koutarou’s arms.

-X-

When Keiji catches Koutarou crying for once, it’s only by accident. Ever since they talked with Kenma, Keiji has felt less like he’s only moments from crying at all times, but he still hasn’t managed to lend Koutarou the emotional support that Koutarou almost certainly needs.

Every so often, he puts his parents on speaker phone and gets Koutarou involved in the conversation, the emotional equivalent of lending someone your favorite blanket to comfort them. He thinks it helps, but he still feels Koutarou’s pain, pulsing quietly in the background as he picks Kenma and Keiji up when they’re feeling the worse.

Keiji sits beside him quietly and takes his hand. “I know you must miss him as much as Kenma,” he says.

“Nah,” Koutarou says, not even bothering to wipe away the tears. “They’ve always been gone for each other, you know? I’m not saying I felt like a third wheel or anything, because Kenma’s not always up for socializing and I always… kinda took it up with Kuroo when he was tired, and Kenma and I kind of bonded over… you know. Kuroo. How he is.” He smiles, and it’s bittersweet somehow. “But it was always Kenma and Kuroo… and then me.”

“That doesn’t mean your feelings are less intense,” Keiji whispers. “Or that you’ll miss him less.”

Koutarou swings his feet gently along the fountain that he’s sitting on, sketching a portrait of the windows. “I don’t know. I don’t know what I feel. Now or before, you know? Like when it’s all _I suck because my art assignment is late and I promised to have it done already_ or _wow this sandwich is the best_ that’s easy but then it’s like…” He sighs waving his hands. “I don’t know. Kuroo.”

Keiji nods. “It’s alright not to know how you feel sometimes,” he says gently.

Koutarou sniffles. “Well… sad,” he says, chuckling a little. “Like really… really sad.”

“Me too,” Keiji says, and Koutarou lays his head on Keiji’s shoulder. “Would you like to just sit here and cry?”

Koutarou nods, and now he starts crying in earnest. Keiji pulls him closer waits it out, because if Keiji holds up Koutarou, Koutarou will hold all of the rest of them up.

-X-

Slowly, the blinding pain in his hip and his heart dwindle to a dull throb. Kenma makes it out of the room at least every few days, and sometimes he almost smiles, and that makes Koutarou smile almost like he used to. Keiji thinks that eventually, Koutarou will seem almost back to normal for someone not watching hard enough. He doubts the same is true for Kenma.

Still, Keiji has started trying to drag Kenma out for breakfast each day, as it gets him out of bed at the very least. Most days, it doesn’t work.

Today, it does.

Unfortunately.

The doorbell is too loud for this early in the morning. Ukai sighs and strolls over, leaving his toast behind. The Institute is usually silent during breakfast, especially now that it’s break and Sugawara isn’t ferrying Hinata and Kageyama to school, and Kageyama and Hinata don’t race about each other, screaming. Keiji has learned to appreciate the small blessings in life.

“Come on in,” comes Ukai’s voice. “Let me show you around.”

Keiji yawns, and Kenma shrinks back at the idea of having to react to a stranger. He glances up, though, when Ukai brings him through the door, twisting around to look.

His spoon clangs to the ground, eyes going wide.

Keiji frowns and turns around. The stranger is blue, from head to toe, and he seems to have a spiked tail curling around his legs. Keiji furrows his brows. It doesn’t seem like Kenma to be so visibly appalled at a new mutant, but before Keiji can angle a questioning gaze at him, Kenma is already on his feet, letting out a roar that Keiji couldn’t have imagined coming from Kenma until now.

“You!” he growls.

The blue boy seems to recognize Kenma as well, because he makes an attempt to run before Kenma has even gotten up. Kenma’s fist collides hard with the doorway, the wood splintering under his hand.

 _He’s going to kill this guy_ , Keiji realizes with a jolt. _He’s actually going to murder him with his bare hands._

“Wait!” the boy says, seemingly realizing this as well. “Let me explain!”

“I DON’T CARE!” Kenma shouts, diving at him.

The boy vanishes with a poof and then reappears behind Keiji, and Kenma’s fist cracks straight through the wall that had been behind him. He whirls around with blood in his eyes. The boy does his best to hide behind Keiji, but he’s not very good at it and he’s a great deal taller than Keiji.

“You killed Kuro, don’t you touch Keiji!” Kenma snarls.

 _Killed Kuro?_ That’s almost enough to have Keiji shaking the newcomer off and delivering him to Kenma’s wrath, but the boy’s voice is shrill when he cries, “I didn’t kill anyone!” and Keiji doesn’t have to think another thought before he throws out his arms and shoves the boy back so he’s actually behind Keiji.

“Kenma, _stop_ ,” he snaps.

Kenma does, though he’s still breathing hard, face fixed into the kind of rage that Keiji wouldn’t have thought him capable of. “He was there, Keiji, he’s the one who split us up!” he yells. “It’s _his fault_.”

“Just _wait_ ,” Keiji grits out. He turns to face the newcomer, who cowers back at his glare. “Explain yourself. What are you doing here?”

“I… well… I ran away,” he boy says. “They said it was impossible, but… you did it, so… I thought…”

Keiji narrows his eyes at him. “You were being kept by the same people as me?”

The boy nods. “I think. I’d never seen you before they brought you in that night, but Yaku said you were special like us, and that you’d run away before, but I didn’t believe him, and then you got out again, while I was there, so I…”

“Did you follow me?” Keiji asks sharply. “Does anyone else know where I am?”

“No!” the boy says, peeking over his shoulder at Kenma, who is still fuming. “Why would I go anywhere your scary friend is?”

Keiji breathes out a long breath. “But you fought against us?”

“Well yeah,” the boy says. “If you don’t do what they say, they don’t give you your shots, and then you melt.”

Keiji blinks, and even Kenma’s rage fades slightly into confusion at that, but only for a split second. “Did you have anything to do with Kuro?” he growls.

“Kuro?” the boy asks, tilting his head.

“He was with us. Black hair, tall.”

“Oh, the other scary guy,” the boy says. “Yeah, I took him out.”

Kenma lets out an earth-wrenching snarl and tries to dive forward, but he stops when Keiji’s elbow jabs him in the throat. Unless this boy has no idea about the explosion, he doesn’t seem the type to be casual about killing someone. He seems the innocent type, sort of like Koutarou. “What do you mean, _took him out_?” he asks. He hopes he’s not wrong. His heart is in his mouth.

“To the other lab,” the boy says.

Kenma nearly drops beside him. Keiji thinks he might follow. “He’s alive?” he whispers.

“If he made it through the tests,” the boy says. “But not a lot of people do.”

“Tests?” Keiji says, though his mouth is numb around the word.

The boy looks uncomfortable. “Well… they… do stuff, and it really hurts, and then…” He holds up his arms and gestures to himself. “That’s how I got like this.”

“You’re saying you weren’t just born this way?” Ukai says.

“Nope. They made me like this.”

Kenma ducks under Keiji’s arm, grabbing the boy’s arms. “Kuro,” he says, voice dripping with desperation. “Do you know where he is?”

“Sure,” the boy says. “But there’s a lot of guys like me there. They’re supposed to guard the labs, and they’re all too scared to say no.” His head dips and his tail twitches. “They won’t give you your shots, or something worse, if you go against them. I left my own friend behind too, I was so scared.”

“Can you show us on a map?” Ukai asks.

The boy nods.

“Alright, we’ll get to that,” he says.

Kenma lets out an outraged cry, but Ukai just shakes his head. “Don’t even think about it. We’re waiting for the team. It’s been weeks, one more day won’t make a difference.” He turns back to Lev, ignoring Kenma’s clenched fists. “What are these shots?”

“Oh, I brought some,” the boy says, pulling a few vials from his jacket pocket. There’s a bright green liquid in them. “I stole them, so I don’t melt.”

“Melt?”

 “Yeah, when your face goes all saggy and your bones collapse and then you die,” the boy says, bizarrely earnest.

“Let me have one,” Ukai says, taking one and rolling it in his palm. “How often do you need these?”

“Maybe once a week,” the boy replies.

“Alright. We’ll try to replicate it,” Ukai says, pocketing the vial. “What’s your name?”

“Haiba Lev,” the boy says proudly.

“Alright, Hiaba. Under no circumstances do you tell Kenma where this lab is.” Kenma whirls around, eyes sparking. “I don’t trust you not to run off and try to do this by yourself.”

“I’m going,” Kenma grits out. “If he’s hurt I need to be the one to get him.”

“The team can take care of this,” Ukai says.

“Then I’m going with the team,” Kenma insists.

Ukai sighs. “Kenma, you’re new to your strength, you’ve got no combat training…”

“I’m _going_.”

Ukai groans. “Fine. But you’re going to do as you’re told the whole time, alright?”

“Fine,” Kenma grits out. He glares at Haiba and storms from the room.

“He’s terrifying,” Haiba whispers.

Keiji tries not to hate him for what he’s done. He knows what fear can make a person do. “Kuroo is more important to him than anything. You had a hand in taking him away from Kenma, though it’s not your fault,” he explains. “Don’t expect him to warm up to you anytime soon.”

Haiba gulps.

Ukai sighs. “Well,” he says. “Like I said, let me show you around.”

-X-

Koutarou comes back from work to find Kenma pacing nervously in their room. He blinks at Keiji in wide-eyed curiousity. Moving when it’s not expressely asked of him is not something that’s typical of Kenma.

Keiji suddenly doesn’t know whether to tell him. There’s a quiet hope fluttering in his chest that he’d like to share with Koutarou, but he also knows that to hope too soon and be wrong is the greatest pain of all, and he doesn’t want Koutarou to feel that.

But him refusing to communicate with Koutarou in the hopes of sparing him is what started all this.

He takes Koutarou by the elbow and drags him out into the hallway. “Koutarou, I want you to take this news calmly.”

“Is someone else hurt?” Koutarou says, his eyes wide.

Keiji shakes his head. “Just promise you won’t overreact.”

“I won’t!”

Keiji takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. “There _may_ be a small chance that Kuroo-san is alive,” he says, slowly.

Koutarou doesn’t move. His eyes are still wide, but he’s not grinning, not bouncing. Slowly, a sense of determination slips into his eyes. “Then he’s alive.”

Keiji sighs. “Koutarou, I want to believe that too, but if we get our hopes up for nothing, then…”

Koutarou smiles then, gently, taking Keiji by the shoulders. “Keiji,” he says, laughing a little. “Sometimes I forget you haven’t been around for long. You’ve never seen a Kuroo promise. I’m surprised I believed he was dead at all!”

“Koutarou…” Keiji says, because he can feel the hope glowing in his chest as well at Koutarou’s look, because perhaps he hasn’t been privy to a Kuroo promise, but he has seen what Koutarou’s unyielding belief can do.

“Alright, alright,” Koutarou says. “I’ll prepare myself for anything. I’ll still have you, right?” He pulls Keiji close and kisses his forehead. When he pulls back, their lips are close together. Keiji feels as though Koutarou’s eyes are hope itself, golden and honest.

He almost leans in when Oikawa’s shrill voice interrupts. “KUROO IS ALIVE AND NO ONE BOTHERED TO TELL ME?” he cries, stomping up the stairs. “YOU ARE ALL THE WORST FRIENDS.”

“We’re friends?” Koutarou asks, blinking innocently.

“ _Rude._ ”

“It’s just a small chance,” Keiji says, because he seems to be the only one still aware of this fact, and honestly it’s just getting frustrating, because with Koutarou here, he’s starting to forget it too, despite his better judgement.

Oikawa laughs, pinching his cheek. “Oh, Akaashi, you sweet child. You don’t know the terrifying power of a Kuroo promise.”

Keiji raises an eyebrow at him, then at Koutarou.

Koutarou nods sagely. “It’s true, you know.”

Keiji groans. He pinches the bridge of his nose. Perhaps it will end in heartbreak later, but he does have to admit that if Kuroo is dead after all, these few days of hope will be the only thing he has to hold on to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It seems like when I said trust the tags a lot of you started looking at that happy ending tag and not the lack of a character death tag. Oh, ye of little faith... 
> 
> Next week: X-men cameos because I'm weak. Kenma actually talks to Kageyama. Yaku. (Kuroo.)


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lol timezones are bizarre and i'm still a pinch jetlagged
> 
> Sorry about the huge introduction of characters in this chapter. Since my rule was that setters are the only (born) mutants, I couldn't figure out how to make a more experienced, adult team without resorting to cameos. They're not very crucial to the story, and basically limited to one/two appearances. Hopefully it's not too bothersome.
> 
> Also, as usual, I've been enjoying the comments, especially those who comment weekly! It's extremely encouraging to see you guys enjoy this story so much. :)

Kenma doesn’t understand how Koutarou and Akaashi managed to fall asleep, but Kenma finds himself staring at them, curled around each other, for almost a half an hour before he finally gets up and pads down to the practice room.

The practice room is set up for everything. There’s a few monitors for people trying to practice less-combative powers, where Kenma often finds Akaashi, trying to memorize the names of the hormones he emits. There’s a few exercises for specific powers, some blocks strewn on tables and something that looks like an arcordion. Inside, there’s the Danger Room, the simulation chamber for combat training.

Kenma grabs one of the combat suits and pushes a few of the buttons on the chamber’s door. The consol flashes to show that it’s already started a simulation. Kenma sighs. At this time of night, there’s only one person who would still be going through a combat situation.

He considers just going back to bed, but he knows that the moment he closes his eyes, he’ll see all the possible things that could be happening to Tetsurou. He waits for the simulation to stop, then steps inside.

Kageyama watches him as he steps in. His brows are furrowed, as always, but without seeing his eyes, Kenma can never tell what he’s feeling, other than some kind of vague, angry sentiment. “Kageyama,” he says, stepping past him onto the platform inside.

“Kozume-san,” Kageyama says. “I didn’t know you did combat training.”                       

“I don’t, usually,” Kenma mutters. He hates getting tired, and combat training, especially with others, is always a grueling workout. “But I can’t sleep.”

“I hear there’s going to be a mission after all. Are you going?”

Kenma nods. “Are you still training, because I’d really like to…” He points at the platform. It’s not that Kenma doesn’t like Kageyama, it’s just that he’s all the intensity of Shoyo without any of the friendliness, and it’s just… a little much for Kenma.

“I’ll train with you,” Kageyama says, though he says it almost like a challenge. “I want Ukai to let me go on the mission. I’m excellent in combat…”

Kenma sighs. He’s terrified of what they’ll find there, so he might be exaggerating, but he gets the feeling this mission won’t be going to the kind of situation a high school boy should be in. Kenma’s only a few years older than Kageyama, of course, but if it wasn’t Tetsurou, he certainly wouldn’t be vying to go either.

“I think Ukai knows what he’s doing,” Kenma says finally. He prods at the consol on the platform. He chooses something that seems appropriate for their powers, and ups the level. He glances at Kageyama. “Can you handle level five?”

Kageyama nods.

The simulation pops to life, and without a second to spare, large metal arm is poping out at him. A single punch sends it flying in another direction. Kageyama is behind him, lasers taking out another arm.

This is about a level or two higher than Kenma has ever bothered with, even when Tetsurou was still nagging him to practice in case he ever wanted to join the alum team, and Kenma can see the difference. Things are faster, more brutal this way, but that is something that Kenma’s learned to deal with in video games. His main problem has always been that he’s unsteady and gets tired easily, but his new strength seems to compensate that.

A few shots clip him in the side and back. He’s not used to this sort of thing being three dimensional, and he’s not used to having to watch his back. He quickly prods Kageyama to watch it for him. Kageyama’s reflexes are astounding, his aim even more so. With a few directions from Kenma, telling him how to cover him when he’s in the air, they’ve got something nearly unstoppable.

He’s getting tired, but for once, he doesn’t care. Until he gets so exhausted and sore that he passes out, he won’t sleep anyway, and lying awake in his bed isn’t going to help Tetsurou.

“Want to do another?” he asks. “Two levels higher, can you manage?”

“Of course,” Kageyama says, and it’s a brash, dumb sort of statement, but there’s not actually any arrogance in it. It’s not a Tooru-esque _how could you ever doubt meeee_ , but rather an _I will catch up if I’m behind_. Kenma finds himself smiling despite himself. Though it’s strange to say, Kageyama really is a lot like Shoyo.

“Good.”

They pick up a few bruises before they get the level straight. There’s distracting lights now as well, and the tempo is a bit faster. By the time they’ve finished this one, Kageyama is out of breath and Kenma has given up on ever breathing again. There’s that burn in his throat that Kenma has always despised, feared a little.

They shut off the Danger Room. It’s quiet between them. Kenma sighs. He’s lost his mind. “You want to get a midnight snack?” he asks.

Kageyama stares at him. All his expressions look basically the same, but Kenma’s starting to think that maybe there’s minute differences that he might be able to pick up. Right now, he looks… conflicted? Touched? Well. Eventually, maybe, he’ll get it.

“If you don’t mind, Kozume-san,” he says.

“It’s just Kenma,” Kenma says. “Can I call you Tobio?”

He nods, slowly. Kenma smiles at him a little. “Come on, Tobio.”

-X-

“So,” Tobio says, as they dig into the icecream that Sugawara has so expertly hidden in the freezer. Kenma has to remember to get him more later. “We’re going after Kuroo-san, right?”

Kenma freezes for a moment, then nods.

“Do you think he’s still alive?”

Kenma sighs. That’s something he’s explicitly not been thinking about. What if he gets his hopes up and when he gets there all he gets is Tetsurou’s corpse? It seems too cruel of a joke for the world to play. “I do,” he says. Tetsurou is strong, he has to be alive.

“How do you manage?” Tobio says finally, and Kenma gets the feeling that this is the question he’s been desperate to ask ever since they started talking. “With your powers, Kuroo-san is always in danger staying with you. One mistake and…”

“Badly,” Kenma says. Tobio frowns at him. This time, his minute expression is clearly confusion. “Usually I deal with it badly. But I’m going to fix that, now.”

“Fix it?”

“I’m going to let Kuroo decide what he thinks is worth risking for us to be together.”

“But he couldn’t possibly understand!” Tobio blurts. “How could he? When you care about someone, all you think about is that they’d never hurt you, but if he’s not like us, how could he really understand that I… that you are a constant danger.”

Kenma sighs. “Maybe he won’t ever understand, not fully,” he says. “But neither of us can manage without the other. If I pull away to protect him, that will hurt him too. This is what we have to live with. I try my best to share how I feel, but in the end, he has the right to take the risk and I’m willing to bear that burden for him.”

Tobio glares down at his clenched wrist.

“Tobio?” Kenma says softly. Tobio looks up at him. Sadness. Fear. Anger. Kenma is sure he sees all of them. “Tell Shoyo. These aren’t things you can handle alone.”

He lays his spoon in the sink and turns to go. “Goodnight, Tobio.”

It’s soft and takes a moment, but finally he hears a quick, “Goodnight,” whispered back.

-X-

They train for the next few days, as the rest of the team streams in. They’re from all around the world. Some of them barely speak Japanese. Fortunately, his English is fairly good, though Tobio’s is not, and he’s more eager to talk to the team, so Kenma has to translate with his own broken English. Their names are complicated and foreign, but Kenma tries to remember their codenames at least.

There’s a woman with dark skin and white hair from Africa who can control the weather. Her English sounds slightly foreign, at least as far as Kenma can tell, but she speaks clearly. Kenma takes a liking to her. She’s nearly as quiet as him, but more graceful, more poised. Her codename is easy to remember too: Storm.

There’s a Japanese woman with an English name who wields two swords and has psionic blasts. Her Japanese is slightly accented too, and she keeps to herself, mostly. Everyone calls her Psylocke, and she seems to make everyone nervous.

There’s a man who’s blue and furry and has sharp teeth, but his English and Japanese are both flawless and elegant, even though his name, McCoy, is clearly English. He quickly joins the professor and Nekomata in the labs, looking at Lev’s “shots” and blood samples. He looks so funny in his horn rimmed glasses. He’s kind, and he quickly strikes up a conversation with Akaashi, somehow, despite Akaashi nearly fleeing the area when they first meet.

There’s another blue woman who shapeshifts. Kenma can’t fathom why there are so many blue mutants. She greets Nekomata like a friend who’s forgotten to return her favorite book for years. Nekomata greets her like a daughter. She doesn’t seem happy about it. She doesn’t seem very happy about any of them, really, especially not Lev, who keeps badgering her, asking her about being blue. Her name is Mystique. She doesn’t seem to have a real name.

They spend the rest of the first day stragegizing. At least Lev knows the entire floorplan by heart, and he knows a little bit about the guards and their shifts, though he’s utterly useless at explaining it. Kageyama manages to worm his way into the meetings, and Ukai sighs and lets him.

They finally turn in for the night. Everyone agrees that it’s best to sleep until they head out at four in the morning, where the shifts are thinner (at least according to Lev). Kenma doubts he’ll get any sleep.

Keiji and Koutarou are outside, but Tooru has come home for the night, it seems. He’s rubbing at his temple absently. Kenma frowns. “You alright?” he asks.

Tooru jumps at his voice, but he turns and grins at Kenma. “Great!” he says. Kenma can tell he’s lying, if only because his nose is dripping blood.

He sighs and grabs a tissue, pressing it to Tooru’s nose. “Don’t think I’m not going to deal with you after Kuro is safe,” he mutters.

Tooru’s shoulders slump. “It’s not a big deal.”

“Then you won’t mind if I tell Iwaizumi,” Kenma says, flopping down on his own bed. That’s a bluff, probably. Kenma doesn’t want to talk to Iwaizumi. Not that he has any problem with Iwaizumi, but they’ve never talked before, outside of a few awkward, silent meetings while they waited for Tooru somewhere.

Tooru doesn’t reply, but he won’t look at Kenma either. “You will bring him back, right?” he says. “You’ll be careful?”

“Yes,” Kenma murmurs. He’s utterly terrified, but he has to keep his head clear. If he slips up, gets too hasty, Tetsurou will pay the price.

Keiji slips back into the room. “Oh,” he says. “We were looking for you. When are you heading out?”

“Four in the morning,” Kenma says.

Keiji rolls into the bed beside him, carefully clutching him close. “Please be careful,” he whispers. His breath is hot in Kenma’s ear. Kenma pulls back a little and presses his lips to Keiji’s. _One second, two seconds…_ They pull back quickly.

“I’m coming back. I promise,” Kenma whispers. “And I’m bringing Tetsurou with me.”

“You had better,” Keiji whispers.

-X-

Kenma doesn’t sleep, and eventually he ends up joining Kageyama in the hangar. The team takes a jet everywhere, which Kenma thinks is overly dramatic, but Kageyama is so starry-eyed looking at the jet that Kenma decides not to be overly cynical. At least the jet is camoflagable and silent, so they’ll certainly have the advantage of surprise.

Kenma’s nearly vibrating. He has to sit down beside the jet and take a few deep breaths. He can feel Kageyama staring at him, hear the rest of the team gathering. “Kageyama, you’re not coming,” Ukai’s voice says.

Kageyama is already protesting.

“He’s good in combat,” Kenma says. “And he’s figured out already how to cover my weaknesses.”

Ukai groans. “Fine. Kageyama’s coming too.” Kageyama thanks him, overeager as ever.

He cracks open an eye. Lev is hovering behind Ukai too. “He’s coming?” he mutters. He doesn’t like Lev. There’s still a lingering dislike because Lev was the one to take Tetsurou, but he’s also loud and unpredictable. Two things Kenma can’t stand.

“He knows the layout and the guards, and his powers are useful.”

Kenma sighs and hops into the jet without another word. Kageyama follows close behind him, but somehow Kenma manages to get wedged between the Storm and Lev. “Kenma-san!” Lev chirps the moment they’re in the air.

Kenma wonders how hard it would be to leap from the jet and just fly along beside them. He stares straight ahead. Storm smiles beside him. Kenma wonders whether, if he was that poised, Lev would have the nerve to bug him.

“If we get your friend back will you forgive me?”

“No,” Kenma growls.

“Aww, but Kenma-san!”

“Please leave me alone,” Kenma sighs.

Lev sniffs, but he does as he’s asked.

They hover over the building that Lev specified. It looks abandoned. Kenma watches him suspiciously. He’s still not convinced that Lev is being entirely honest.

“Alright,” Ukai says. “Like we discussed. Storm will create a distraction outside, then Lev will take Mystique inside to cause distractions inside. That will allow Kenma and…” he sighs. “… I guess, Kageyama to get into the laboratories.”

Kenma closes his eyes and focuses on his breathing again. He can’t let the thought that Tetsurou might be dead get to him. The jet door opens a crack, allowing Storm to slip outside. Thunder and lightning crack through the air as the jet lands gently on the roof of the warehouse.

Kageyama prods him eventually. He lets his eyes crack open. “Mystique gave the signal. We’re up.”

Kenma sighs, standing. Lev puts his hands on his shoulders, grinning sheepishly at the glare Kenma fixes him with. “Hold your breath,” he says.

Kenma slams his eyes shut and holds his breath. There’s a rush of air, a putrid smelling gas, and then Kenma is inside, alarms blaring around him. “Careful. If there’s an alarm, they might wake a few more of the special guards,” he warns, then poofs away again.

Kenma crouches down, sliding towards the next door. Lev and Kageyama appear after a moment. Kenma points at the door and keeps creeping forward. He barely notices Kageyama turn before the laser is already flaring to life at something behind them. It slices through a quickly forming crystal structure. Kenma launches at it, shattering the parts left in tact by the laser and swinging at the small figure behind it.

The guy is fast, but Kenma’s fist catches his side, swinging him into the wall. Kenma moves to dash at him again, but Kageyama’s voice calls out, “Down!” and he throws himself back just before a pillar of flame slides past him, singeing the ends of his hair.

“Wait!” Lev cries, poofing in front of Kenma. “Yaku, it’s me!”

“ _Lev?_ ” says an unfamiliar voice. “What are you _doing_ , you _idiot?_ ”

“I’m helping them,” Lev says. “And they’re making more shots, so that we can run away without melting!”

Kenma tries to sit up. The person he hit is a short boy with dark, spiky hair, a lock of blonde falling over his eyes. Lev’s friend, Yaku, is a slightly taller boy with hair the color of straw. They both look more mature than Lev, and Kenma wonders if maybe they’re the ones who’ve managed to keep Lev relatively naïve by protecting him.

“Yeah? In exchange for what?” the dark haired one asks.

“Uh…” Lev says.

Kenma sighs and stands up. “Nothing,” he says. Kageyama is still poised for a fight. “We’re mutants too, though we were born like this. The Institute is a place that helps people like us.”

“Just like that?” Yaku asks, eyes narrowed. “Then what are you doing here?”

“They took my boyfriend,” Kenma says, teeth gritted. He doesn’t want to be kind or helpful with these people at all, but he knows that’s just pettiness. It’s not these guys who hurt Tetsurou, they’re in the same boat as Tetsurou. “I’m here for him. But if you’re coming too, the Institute will do its best to help you as well.”

Yaku glances at the dark-haired boy. “Noya?” Kenma watches him warily. Pettiness or not, if Yaku refuses to help, Kenma will have to get him out of the way to get to Tetsurou, and that might turn Lev against them as well.

“Hell, lets give it a try,” the other, Noya, says, and Kenma breathes a sigh of relief. “What’ve we got to lose?”

Yaku sighs. “Fine. Your… boyfriend. He’s the guy Lev brought in last? Tall, black hair?”

Kenma nods, heart fluttering in his chest. “He’s alive?”

“Oh yeah,” Yaku scoffs. “Caused quite the mess. I know where he is.”

Kenma tries not to burst into tears as he follows after Yaku. It might be a mistake, but he has to hope that Yaku is telling the truth. Kageyama seems more suspicious, but he follows as well as Yaku leads them down to one of the doors.

“In there,” Yaku mutters. He glances at Lev. “Stay outside, Lev, ok?”

Lev nods, and Yaku ducks inside, Kenma tight on his heels.

He sees why Yaku asked Lev to stay outside. The smell alone is horrifying, but the sights are even worse. There are people in cages all over the room, and Kenma can only manage a glance before he has to look away. He sees now what Lev meant by ‘melting.’ These people are falling apart, like they’re breaking down before their eyes, but they’re still moving, moaning.

Kenma tries not to breathe in the smell. He’s not going to puke. He stumbles a little, and one of the monstrosities grabs him, pulling him to the bars and sinking a set of what appear to be fangs into Kenma’s shoulder before Kenma manages to wrestle it away. The thing’s skull caves under his hand as Kenma staggers away, bumping into Yaku.

Yaku holds his shoulder tightly, the one that’s not bleeding. “Careful,” he says. “Some of them were already trained as attack dogs before they started destabilizing.”

He pulls away, leaving Kenma to stare at his feet in the middle of the room, trying to calm himself down.

“Here,” Yaku says from the corner.

Kenma is still scared to look, but he stumbles after his voice. He wrenches his head up, his chest tight, and nearly sags with relief when he sees Tetsurou. He’s all in one piece, it seems, though he’s horribly pale against the white hospital gown on him and his bedhead is all wrong. He’s curled into a cage, hands wrapped into fists with gauze and bound to the sides of the cage.

“Why’s he in here?” Kenma asks. _Is he going to start decomposing?_ He reaches through the bars to brush Tetsurou’s awful bangs from his face. He flinches slightly but doesn’t stir. 

“His new powers are… pretty volatile,” Yaku says.

 _Powers?_ Kenma thinks, blinking at Yaku.

“Don’t unwrap his hands,” Yaku suggests.

Kenma gives him a sharp look, but he decides to heed the warning. He wrenches the bars open and snaps the ties around Tetsurou’s wrists, then pulls him out. He’s hot to the touch even through Kenma’s gloves, feverish, and from this angle he can see that there’s something like burns all the way down Tetsurou’s right wrist, some of them just barely scabbed over. He falls into Kenma’s arms, boneless.

For a moment, everything else stops and Kenma can only manage to run his hands up Tetsurou’s spine and pull him close. He doesn’t smell like he does usually, but rather like antiseptic and blood, but Kenma is so accustomed to the way his shoulders are shaped and the line of his jaw under his fingers that something primal in his body responds to holding him.

This was a feeling he had thought he’d lost forever and to have it again is almost enough to make him collapse and sit here with Tetsurou for the rest of his life, blind to the world around them.

The only thing that gets him to look up is the automatic urge to keep Tetsurou safe.

He looks around. “Do you think you can give me a sheet? I can’t risk touching him.”

“I think it’s just his hands…” Yaku starts, but Kenma shakes his head.

“My powers.”

Yaku blinks, but he starts looking around the room. “Ok, hold on,” he says. He disappears for a moment, leaving Kenma to cradle Tetsurou’s head on his shoulder and brush his hands through his hair. Tetsurou frowns, this time stirring at the touch, but he still doesn’t wake up.

“You’re gonna be ok, I’ve got you now,” Kenma whispers to him.

Yaku returns with a sheet, and together they drape it around Tetsurou’s shoulders and slip it over his face a little so that Kenma can slide his arms under Tetsurou’s knees and shoulders, hanging his head over his own shoulder. “We should get out,” Yaku says. “They’ll start making rounds soon to see if we cleared our sector.”

Kenma nods, and they creep out. Lev looks them over, then glances at Yaku nervously. “I’ve never taken more than one person before, I don’t think I can,” he says.

“You should take him first, he’s dead weight,” Noya says, nodding at Tetsurou.

Kenma clutches him a little tighter. Now that he can feel Tetsurou in his arms, breaths tight and quick, but still there, he doesn’t want to let him go, and he still isn’t sure if he can trust Lev. Still, he’s got no better options. He grits his teeth and slides Tetsurou into Lev’s long arms. Lev pulls him up, close to his chest, holding his head like he’s a baby. That makes Kenma feel a little better.

“If anything happens to him, I will find you,” he says, for good measure.

Lev gulps. “Okay,” he squeaks, and poofs away.

Kenma counts the seconds nervously. Kageyama stays close to him, fingers at his visor, ready for a fight. By the time Lev reappears, Kenma has just about decided that he’s going to have to find him and snap his neck. “He’s in the jet,” Lev says. “But I think a few of the guards have found the jet, so we’ve got to get up there fast.”

He extends his hand to Kenma. Kenma glances back at Kageyama. “Go,” he says. There’s a sudden crash at the end of the hallway. Noya’s eyes widen and he shoves Kenma towards Lev.

Kenma huffs, but he grabs Lev’s arm. His stomach twists, but he finds himself in the jet. It shakes dangerously as he staggers to his feet, Lev already vanishing. McCoy is hunched over Tetsurou, and Kenma dashes to his side. “Is he alright?”

“Pretty nasty infection, it seems,” McCoy says. He has on a pair of glasses, which look slightly ridiculous on his fuzzy face. He reaches for the gauze around the injured hand.

Kenma grabs his hand before he gets to it. “One of the guys from here said not to do that. Maybe leave it for the Institute.”

McCoy looks it over, then nods. The jet rocks again, just as Lev is dropping Kageyama beside them. Kageyama has a nasty cut along one of his arms. “There’s a giant alligator man inside,” he says, looking a little pale.

“You alright?” Kenma asks.

Kageyama nods. “I think it’s broken, though,” he says, nodding at his arm.

The jet rocks again, and Ukai is jumping through one of the upper hatches. “Do we have everyone?”

“Not yet,” Kageyama says. “Two guys helped us, Lev’s gone back for them.”

Ukai sighs. “Alright, but we’ve got to start take off. Mystique’s just gotten back and they’re concentrating their attention to the roof.” Right on queue, Mystique follows him through the hatch, and the two of them hurry to the control panel of the jet.

The engines whir to life as Lev appears with a startled Noya. “We can’t take off yet!” Lev cries. “Yaku’s still holding off the other guys!”

“Grab him, quickly,” Ukai says. “And try to reappear a little higher than before, because we’re probably going to start up the engines while you’re gone.”

Lev nods and disappears. Ukai raises the jet just a little, and it rocks with another hit from something. Kenma darts to the front, looking out the windows. There’s a few tornados, but a man is throwing laser circles around them to the best of his ability, shaking the jet.

There’s another man, behind him, a man with a mustace and glasses, and he looks terrifyingly familiar. Kenma frowns, and the man glances up at the jet. Kenma starts, because for a moment he thinks that the man is looking at him, and he knows immediately where he’s seen his face before. He’s seen him in Akaashi’s memories.

He wants to puke. Akaashi’s memories have always been more potent, more filled with panic, but they usually fade a few hours after he touches Akaashi. Still, they seem to reappear at the sight of this man more than ever, and Kenma finds himself suddenly on his hands and knees, nearly wretching with the memories that come to him.

_It’s cold and he can’t move his hands. Something has been shoved into his mouth and he can’t breathe around it. A needle is in his arm, moving around as blood is drawn into a large vial. “Now about that foot, hm?” comes a voice. He shakes his head, trying to struggle away, but he’s held still as those hands latch onto his foot, pushing at bones that grind against each other. He’s screaming, but there’s no one who will hear him, no one who will help…_

“Kenma,” a voice is saying. “It is alright. Everything is alright,” it continues, in accented English.

He looks up into brown eyes, trying to catch his breath. He sits back, glancing around. They’re in the air, and everyone is there, even Yaku, though he’s rubbing at his bruised face, glaring at Lev, who is trying to lay his head on Yaku’s shoulder anyway.

Storm’s white gloved gloved hands are firm on his shoulder. “A… memory,” he tells her, though it takes him a moment to remember the English words. “My friend. He knew that man. I have his memories.”

She nods. “Akaashi,” she says, though she doesn’t say it quite right. He nods.

They smile at each other slightly. “Your friend. Is he alright?”

Right. Tetsurou. Kenma’s stomach twists, and he pushes to his feet. “I… I hope so.” He kneels beside McCoy, who is cleaning what he can of Tetsurou’s wounds, and settles in to wait for them to get to the Institute.

He has Tetsurou back now. There’s no way he’s going to let him go again. Everything is going to be just fine. Tetsurou will be ok. He slides his fingers into Tetsurou’s hair. Usually it bothers him that with gloves he can’t quite feel how soft it is, but right now all that matters is that Tetsurou is here. Alive. Safe. With Kenma.

“For the record, Kuro, this does not count as fine,” he whispers. “Consider your promise broken, idiot.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I'm going to have to figure out a way to do a small KageHina spin-off as a part of the series. If only I was better at thinking of plots.
> 
> Next week: Kuroo gets glasses. It nearly kills Kenma. In short, I collapse back into fluff because honestly at this point I was worn out by all this angst.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few notes this week:
> 
> First off, Ao3 had their email glitch last week pretty much exactly when I posted my chapter, so if you didn't read a chapter last week then you're a chapter behind and you should go back and read it, because there's a few plot points that went down in the past chapter.
> 
> Secondly, there's a few warnings in this chapter. Discussions of non-con from "He peers at Koutarou silently for a moment." to "Keiji draws back, shaking his head." Like the tags say, they're not very vivid and it's all about things that happened previously, but if it's something that could make you uncomfortable, then just skip it to be safe. Moderately sexy-times from there on as well, basically until the end of the chapter, but it's only really explicit from "They’re both breathless by the time Koutarou pulls away" to “Should I…?”. There's lots of discussions about consent/related to consent throughout, but Bokuto's a patient little sunflower and it's all 150% consensual when he's involved.
> 
> Enjoy!

Koutarou is nearly bouncing off the walls the moment he wakes up. Keiji eyes him quietly from the bed, reading a book. Koutarou goes through the five stages of greif three times before noon, but Keiji seems decidedly unruffled. Eventually, Koutarou runs out of steam and collapses on top of Keiji, burying his face in Keiji’s chest.

“How are you so calm?” he asks, voice muffled. Keiji’s clothes are always soft.

“You’re the one who told me to trust in the power of Kuroo’s promises,” he says, rubbing at the back of Koutarou’s neck. “That and Kenma’s dedication. I certainly wouldn’t want to stand in between him and Kuroo.”

Koutarou sighs. “Can you do the thing?” he asks.

Keiji smiles, and he closes his eyes. Koutarou feels calmness wash over him, subtle, but stronger once he manages to melt into Keiji’s arms, letting Keiji rub his hands up and down Koutarou’s arms.

“Koutarou?” he asks suddenly.

“Hmm?” Koutarou mumbles back.

“Are you in love with Kuroo?”

“What?! No!” Koutarou blurts, eyes darting up to Keiji’s. He’d thought Keiji was alright with their… well… arrangement. Had he just been oblivious? Was this why they hadn’t kissed yet? Koutarou feels awful again. He should have been paying more attention, assuring Keiji that he was interested in him in a way that he wasn’t interested in Kuroo.

“I’m not upset, Koutarou,” Keiji says gently, smiling. His fingers are soft against Koutarou’s jaw. “It’s just that while I feel something very special for you, I don’t think I could honestly say that I’m not in love with Kenma or Kuroo. I was wondering if you felt the same.”

“Um,” Koutarou says, because he’s not sure where this is going or how he should respond.

“Kenma mentioned it while he was drunk. That we could all be happy together.”

Koutarou’s cheeks heat up at that. He imagines the four of them, all free to kiss each other and cuddle and say _I love you_ , and something flutters in his chest. “Y-you know,” he murmurs. “That doesn’t sound bad,” he whispers.

Keiji hums quietly. “Can I ask another question, Koutarou?”

Koutarou almost says that he’d listen to anything Keiji has to say, as long as he says Koutarou’s name at the end of it. Keiji’s lips are soft and graceful around his name. Instead, he nods.

“Why do you call Kuroo by his family name? He calls you Koutarou.”

“Uh… yeah, but Kenma’s always calling him Kuro, so I guess I just… never thought about it.” That’s not entirely the truth. Koutarou fidgets nervously, and Keiji notices, lips quirking slightly. “That and… uh… I guess I didn’t want to get too cozy, ‘cause I didn’t want to get too caught up in Kuroo when he’s got Kenma, you know.” He slides his fingers into Keiji’s hand, playing with the slender digits. “But now I’ve got you, so… if they make it home, maybe… maybe that’ll work out?”

Keiji smiles at that, in an honest, open way that Koutarou’s never seen on him before. “I think you mean to say _when_ , Koutarou,” he whispers.

“Yeah,” he breathes. “Yeah, when.” He grins, and Keiji grins with him, shifting so that he can press his forehead to Koutarou’s.

They stay like that, for so long that Koutarou is surprised he managed to stay still for so long. That’s not exactly one of his strong suits, but something about Keiji is so calming. _I love you,_ he almost murmurs. The way Keiji looks at him, it’s as if he almost breathes back _I love you too, Koutarou_.

Eventually, it’s Oikawa that breaks them apart, bursting into the room, glasses askew. “They’re back,” he gasps, panting as though he’s run all the way up from the hangar. “They’re back, and I think Kenma’s taking Kuroo to the infirmary, but I didn’t get much else from Ukai.”

Koutarou is out of bed before his brain actually processes the information, stumbling over Oikawa’s books. “Holy shit, but he’s alive?” he says, once he makes it out into the hallway, Keiji right behind him.

Oikawa nods. “So it would seem.”

“Holy shit. Holy shit. Is he…? He’s ok, right?” Oikawa shrugs desperately. He’s not actually much more composed than Koutarou, which is essentially not at all. Koutarou looks at Keiji, as though he has the answers. Keiji is composed enough for both of them.

“He’s alive,” he says, his voice steady. “That’s what matters. Let’s go down to the infirmary, see what we can find out, alright?” He takes Koutarou’s hand, and then, after looking him up and down, grabs Oikawa’s hand as well, and walks them down to the infirmary, like an island in a buzzing, nervous ocean.

Shimizu is already downstairs with Suga, bent over Kuroo, and Kenma is across from them, eyes fixed right on Kuroo, curled around his arm and gripping tight. Koutarou can’t see Tetsurou between them all, but he rushes over beside Kenma, throwing his arm around his friend’s small shoulders. “Is he ok?” he breathes. From here, Kuroo’s so still and so pale, and it’s not like him at all.

“He’s pretty sick, but he’s alive,” Kenma says. He takes in Koutarou’s shaking arms, and manages a smile. “This is Tetsurou, though,” he adds, which means he’s _really serious_ , because he’s not calling Kuroo Kuro. “He’ll make it from here. You know that.”

Shimuzu squeaks, and something clangs to the floor and then explodes, jolting their attention there. Koutarou leans over the bed, but Kenma pulls him back quickly. “Don’t touch his hands,” he warns.

Koutarou frowns, then looks down. Kuroo’s hand is extended right under him, burned terribly, blisters extending up to the tips of his long fingers. “Huh?” he says.

Keiji squats down on the other side of the bed. Koutarou dashes over to look at what he’s looking at. There’s a large, black soot stain right under where Kuroo’s hand is hanging from the bed. “So I take it Kuroo has powers too, then?” Keiji says dryly.

“So it would seem,” Kenma says.

Shimizu sighs. “It seems he charges everything he touches, which explains the burns. He probably grabbed onto something and didn’t let go before it exploded. Of course, it’ll make disinfecting his wound rather difficult.” She searches through her bag for a bottle of something. “But here we go.” She pours it along his wounds, craning a little to get it onto his hand as well, gingerly sliding her fingers under his wrist to bend it right.

He stirs a little, face scrunching up, and Koutarou automatically goes to grip his hand comfortingly before Keiji snatches it away with a strict look. “Right,” Koutarou mutters. “Agh! That’s going to be hard.”

Kenma’s hand comes to rest on Kuroo’s head, thumbing through his hair.

“Get me a blood sample too, Shimizu,” McCoy says from the door. “We need to make sure he doesn’t need the serum Haiba brought us.”

Shimizu nods, and she goes about her business, avoiding Kuroo’s hand as she goes. “His hand should air out if we can’t bandage it,” she says finally. “But I’ll keep the gauze on the other one until we find a solution.”

Kenma nods. “I’ll keep an eye on it.” He pulls up a chair and sits beside the bed. Oikawa drags up his own and sits on the other side of the bed.

Koutarou glances at Keiji. “We’re staying too, right?”

“Of course,” Keiji says, kissing his forehead and going to look for a chair.

-X-

Koutarou means to stay awake until Kuroo wakes up, but instead he dozes off after about an hour of uneventful staring, head resting on Keiji’s shoulder while Keiji holds Kenma close. He’s been so on edge and Keiji is so calm, it’s hard not to collapse into the relief that Kuroo is _back_ , it’s going to be _okay._ It’s a fitful, light sleep, though, and Koutarou jolts awake at Kenma’s quick hiss.

He blinks, blearily rubbing at his eyes. “Huh?”

Keiji is stiff as a board under him. Koutarou pulls himself up, looking at Kuroo for a sign of what’s wrong. He notices that Kuroo’s eyes are open, and that gives him the answer.

The whites of Kuroo’s eyes have gone pitch black, and the irises are a sharp red. Koutarou blinks, and Kuroo’s eyes slide around the room. Kenma leans over him. “Tetsurou?” he whispers.

Kuroo frowns and reaches up with his unwrapped hand, but Kenma catches his hand and pins it to the bed. “Careful,” he murmurs. “Your hands are a little dangerous right now.”

The message doesn’t seem to get to Kuroo, who squirms under Kenma, trying to move his fingers on his bound hand. He lets out a slow whimper when he realizes that’s not working either. Koutarou doesn’t think his eyes are focusing on anything properly. “I wanna go home,” he croaks, his voice broken and small. “I want Kenma.”

Koutarou wants to wrap his arms around him and hold him close, but Kenma’s leaning over him now, one hand gripping Kuroo’s wrist and the other pushing his bangs out of his eyes softly.

“Ssh,” Kenma says, sliding his fingers through Kuroo’s hair. His eyes are shimmering with tears, but his voice is soft and steady. “You’re safe. I’m here, Tetsurou, I’m here.”

Kuroo struggles against him, uncomprehending, until he finally passes back out, leaving Koutarou’s heart aching. Keiji seems to be the only one not in pain, hands gently wrapping around Kuroo’s bound one, a sympathetic look on his face. “He’ll be alright,” he tells Koutarou with a smile. “Look how far you’ve helped me along.”

Koutarou, not for the first time, is astounded by how strong Keiji really is.

-X-

Suga dashes back in a few hours later. “Alright,” he says. “So we’re operating with the assumption that this is some kind of energy charging, so our resident technopath and I have made some gloves with an energy siphoning layer. They’re kind of clunky for now, but it should work.”

The gloves are about two centimeters wide, and it takes Keiji, Kenma, and Suga together to pull them on without touching Kuroo’s hands. They wait with bated breath, but nothing seems to happen. Things aren’t exploding. Suga breathes out a sigh of relief, and they get to work on the other hand.

“Well, that’s dealt with. We’ll have to tug this glove off every so often to treat his burns, but at least we can relax a little.”

Kuroo’s fever abates in the night, and the next time he wakes, he’s a great deal more coherent. He groans, trying to flex his fingers, frowing and bringing them up to his face when he realizes he can’t very well. Then he looks up at the four of them, leaning over him, eager to see how he’s doing.

“Your hands were blowing stuff up,” Koutarou blurts.

Kuroo blinks at him. “Come again?”

Kenma strokes his cheek gently. “You were taken by some people who seem to be capable of giving people powers.”

“Oh,” Kuroo breathes. His voice sounds shaky suddenly, and his arms twitch a little, eyes roaming the room. “Right. I… I remember.”

Keiji leans forward, hand resting on Kuroo’s shoulder. “Kuroo-san,” he says gently. “It’s alright. You’re safe. We’re here.” Koutarou nods vehemently behind him.

Kuroo’s eyes snap to Keiji’s and he lets out a nervous chuckle. “I know,” he manages.

“Of course. But it’s good to hear, isn’t it?” Keiji says, with a wry smile.

“Yeah,” Kuroo says, but his voice cracks midway and he’s suddenly crying, tears spilling fast over his cheeks.

Everyone moves lightning fast. Keiji hops up and snuggles beside Kuroo, letting Kuroo lay his head on his chest, Kenma scoots closer so that he can wrap his arms around Kuroo’s head, Koutarou hugs him around the waist, and even Oikawa hops up beside Keiji so he can rub Kuroo’s shoulders.

“Sssh,” Kenma whispers. “It’s alright. Everything is alright, we’re here, you’re ok…”

Kuroo laughs as he tries to catch his breath, Kenma wiping away his tears patiently. “Kenma,” Kuroo chokes out. “I thought I was never going to see you again.”

Kenma wipes away a few of his own tears with his shoulder. “Me too,” he croaks. “I thought you were dead.”

Kuroo laughs, and Kenma laughs with him, both of them sniffling. “My hands blow things up,” Kuroo wheezes. “I guess you could say it’s my explosive personality.”

Kenma brings one hand up to his face and leans his elbow on the side of the bed, but he’s shaking with laughter. “That doesn’t even make any sense, Kuro,” he gasps between giggles.

Kuroo is nearly curled up with laughter. Koutarou looks at Keiji, who shakes his head with a  tired look. Koutarou doesn’t get why they’re laughing so hard, but he figures that as long as they’re doing it together it’s probably something they need.

“You’re such an ass,” Kenma squeaks, clutching his sides as he laughs.

“You love me,” Kuroo manages, struggling to breathe.

“I do.”

Oikawa watches them both dissolve even further into giggles with a sigh. “You guys are both really lame,” he mutters.

“Adrenaline!” Kuroo cries, before losing it again with a loud snort. Kenma lets out a strangled squeak of a laugh when he hears it, and neither of them can catch their breath for the next thirty minutes.

-X-

Once Kuroo manages to stay awake more often than not, Keiji’s finally the one who tells him about the eyes as well, holding a mirror up for him. Kuroo gawks at it for a long time. “I look terrifying,” he says eventually.

“If it’s any comfort, you looked terrifying before as well,” Keiji says.

Kuroo pouts at him. “No one’s ever going to believe I’m a nice person again,” he whines.

“We already don’t believe you,” Oikawa says, patting his head. Kuroo glares at him.

“We’ll get you some contacts,” Kenma says, stroking his hair as he sits behind Kuroo.

“Truth be told, I think I’ve needed glasses for a while now,” Kuroo sighs. “So I might as well.”

Which is how they end up in another room, looking at the eye chart. Koutarou can make out about six of the lines from where he’s standing behind Kuroo. Kuroo is struggling through the third line.

“Oh my gods, you’re blind,” Kenma whispers.

“You’ve driven us places,” Keiji adds, looking horrified.

“I am not blind,” Kuroo says, squinting as he reads a P as an H in the third row. “I’m just a little near sighted.”

Oikawa groans, taking out his contacts and finishing the row for him, and then the next one with a few mistakes. “You’re even blinder than me,” he snaps, sticking out his tongue.

“How did you not notice this before,” Kenma breathes. “What is wrong with you.”

“I didn’t think it was that bad,” Kuroo mutters.

“You’re… oh my gods,” Kenma groans, pressing his hands into his eyes. “Why are you like this.”

Shimizu sighs. “Alright, so we’ll have to get you a proper prescription for sure.”

Kuroo frowns, glancing sidelong at Kenma. “I’m not blind,” he mutters.

Kenma grabs his face and pull him close, golden eyes flashing. “Do not even,” he whispers. “Do not.”

Koutarou gasps, grabbing Kuroo by the shoulders. He’s careful not to use as much force as usual. Kuroo startles easily, now, much like Keiji. “Dude,” he says. “You’re gonna be so adorable in glasses.” He grins at Kenma. “Think about it!”

Kenma blushes. “Oh no,” he says, pinching the bridge of his nose. He looks at Keiji. “I’m going to be weak. You’ll have to reign them in alone.” He grabs Keiji by the shoulders. “I’m so sorry.”

Kuroo is blushing too now. “I can be a responsible adult,” he murmurs.

Keiji nods severely. “I will be strong for the both of us, Kenma,” he declares. “I’ll keep these idiots in line no matter how adorable they are.”

Koutarou lets out an offended squak. “Keiji!”

“Hey, I have glasses too!” Oikawa whines. “I’m adorable too! Way more adorable than Kuroo!”

“Shut up, you have your own boyfriend!” Kuroo snaps, and they both stick out their tongues at each other.

-X-

About a week later, Kuroo is finally allowed out of the infirmary. His burn is healing nicely, though it’s likely to leave a scar. “Will you need the serum Lev brought?” Koutarou asks, holding out his arm in case Kuroo stumbles. He hasn’t done much walking lately, and it shows.

“McCoy says whatever genetic instability they have, I don’t have it,” Kuroo says. “So I guess it looks like I’ll be fine.”

Koutarou grins.

Kuroo lets out a long sigh.

“What?” Koutarou asks, panic fluttering in him at Kuroo’s frown. He gets the feeling it’ll take him a while before he trusts that Kuroo is really fine.

“I don’t think I can get dressed in these,” he mutters, trying to flex his fingers in the thick gloves. “Or wash my hair.”

Keiji’s head whips around at that, eyes wide. “I want to wash your hair,” he whispers.

Kenma snorts. “What is it with you and soft things?” he laughs.

Keiji leans forward and plants his face in Kuroo’s hair. “I can’t help it,” he mutters, rubbing his cheek into Kuroo’s hair, which is looking even wilder than usual, sticking out every which way.

Koutarou grins at him. Whatever Keiji’s obsession with soft things is, it’s adorable. He’s glad he’s been styling his hair less, because Keiji seems to adore how soft his hair is when it’s down.

Kuroo grins up at him. “Well, alright then,” he laughs. “But seriously, am I going to have to wear these forever?”

“Suga says he’s working on making them thinner,” Keji explains, voice muffled by the fact that he’s still buried in Kuroo’s hair.

Kenma frowns. “Hold on,” he says, stepping up to Kuroo. “Can I?”

Kuroo nods, looking confused, and Kenma sits him down on his bed, takes off his gloves, then holds his hands with the palms up and kisses Kuroo. It’s a longer kiss than usual, one that leaves Kuroo looking shaky and unsteady. Kenma picks up a post-it note from his bedside table. It begins to glow as Kenma lets it go, fluttering forward before it explodes like a little fire cracker.

Kenma picks up another post-it note. It doesn’t glow, looking at Kuroo with a raised eyebrow. “It’s controllable,” he says.

“How did you…?” Kuroo breathes.

“Once you’ve learned to control one power, it’s essentially the same for the rest,” Kenma says. “You just have to know the feeling you get when you use it, and then…” He sighs, thinking for a moment. “… you can… do… not… that.”

“Right,” Kuroo says, chuckling.

“It’s hard to verbalize,” Kenma mutters, glaring at him. “But you should be able to learn to control it as well. Eventually. After you’ve rested.”

Kuroo sighs. “Then in the meantime…”

“Hair washing,” Keiji says, pushing Kuroo to his feet and out of the room. Kuroo lets him, laughing. Koutarou grins, nearly blushing with how adorable Keiji is sometimes. He grins at Kenma, who tries to hide a smile, and drags him after the other two as well.

Kenma closes the toilet seat and sits on it, grabbing his PSP from his pocket and turning it on while Keiji and Koutarou pull Kuroo’s clothes off. Keiji stands on his tiptoes to look at Koutarou, eyes dramatically wide, and Koutarou giggles. Kuroo does have a really, really nice back.

And chest.

Honestly Kuroo is just a mass of sexual allure, and Koutarou’s fingers are buzzing as he unbuttons Kuroo’s jeans and pulls them down. Kuroo’s look is profoundly sexual as he watches Koutarou stand back up, though Koutarou doubts he’s doing it on purpose.

He loops his fingers into his boxers, and Kuroo starts. “Um,” he says. “Hold on, doesn’t Akaashi mind?”

“Not in the least,” Keiji purrs from behind him. His eyes roam slowly over Kuroo’s shoulders. Then he thinks about it and blushes. “I mean, as long as I’m still dressed.”

Koutarou snorts with laughter when Kuroo goes red from head to toe as well. “Ok then,” Kuroo manages, and Koutarou slips his boxers down.

“You want me to go in with you, in case you slip?” Koutarou asks.

“Um…” Kuroo mutters. “Yeah, I’m… I can’t really catch myself very well like this.”

Koutarou grins and pulls his shirt over his head. And as fun as it is to watch Keiji admire Kuroo, Koutarou is very happy when Keiji’s eyes go even darker, his hand shooting out, seemingly unbidden, to squeeze Koutarou’s bicep. Koutarou raises his arm and flexes, and Keiji notices what he’s done. He doesn’t go as red as Kuroo, but his cheeks go even pinker.

“It’s ok, Keiji, I know I look amazing!” Koutarou says happily.

“That is… very true,” Keiji breathes.

Koutarou throws his head back and laughs. “Well, you can touch it all later, Keiji!”

Keiji smiles, one of the shy, cute smiles he does, and withdraws his hand with a tiny mumble of _That sounds nice, Koutarou_.

He doesn’t waste any time, pushing down his own jeans and boxers. “You coming too?” he asks Keiji.

Keiji shakes his head. “Like I say, I’d rather stay dressed, thank you,” he says.

Koutarou grins. Kuroo slides off the gloves. They’re not waterproof just yet, which is another thing Suga is working on. Kuroo tucks his hands under his armpits and carefully steps into the tub, letting Koutarou slip in beside him and turn on the water.

He grabs the soap, hands shaking a little as he starts to lather up Kuroo’s skin. It’s not that Koutarou hasn’t touched Kuroo in all these places before, but now this isn’t so that Kuroo can watch Kenma and think about that, and somehow, the fact that it’s less sexual makes it all the more intimate. Keiji’s glance is hot at the back of his neck, and Koutarou can’t help but think of what they talked about earlier.

Keiji rolls up his sleeves, grabbing the shampoo and beconing for Kuroo to put his head into Keiji’s hands. Kuroo bends down, and Keiji squeezes a little shampoo into his hair, then starts on rubbing it in, long fingers settling into the black hair, teasing at the strands.

Keiji looks so peaceful like this, just enjoying the feel of Kuroo’s soft locks of hair against his fingers, and Kuroo relaxes into his touch, lips parting a little. Before he knows what he’s doing, Koutarou blurts out a breathless “I love you.”

Everyone is staring at him, and Koutarou impulsively claps his hand over his mouth, looking between Kuroo and Keiji, and then occasionally glancing at Kenma.

“Which one of us?” Kuroo asks.

“Both?” Koutarou squeaks. “All three?” He twists his hands into his hair. “Agh, I’m so sorry! I never think before I speak!”

“I’m glad,” Kenma says. “I thought I’d never be able to bring it up.”

“We already talked about this, Koutarou,” Keiji says, with a forgiving smile. “And I love you too, while we’re at it, though I sort of wanted to say it first while it was just the two of us.”

“Wait, wait,” Kuroo says. “Has everyone just been clear about the fact that this is turning into a fourway but me?”

“Don’t tell me you didn’t notice,” Kenma says.

“I didn’t know _what_ was going on, I’ve just been overthinking _everything_ ,” Kuroo says, pouting.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know how to say it,” Kenma mutters. “You’re alright with it?”

Kuroo sighs. “Gimme time,” he mutters. Even his shoulders are red as he rubs at them in embarrassment. “But yeah.”

Koutarou laughs. “Well, Keiji and I haven’t even gotten together yet, so I think you’ve got time.”

Keiji blushes all the way down his neck and up his ears, and pushes Kuroo under the water to wash the shampoo out of his hair instead of looking at Koutarou. Koutarou realizes he’s never actually taken Keiji on a date, though they’re always doing stuff. He decides that when they’re done showering, that’s what he’ll do next.

They have to help Kuroo get dressed and then wait for his hands to dry before he can pull his gloves back on, and the moment they manage, Kenma is glancing at Koutarou over his boyfriend’s shoulder, giving him a very pointed look. Koutarou nods and taps Keiji on the shoulder. “I think it’s time for us to leave Kuroo and Kenma to themselves, huh?”

Keiji looks over at them, smiling slightly before nodding.

They trot down the stairs, Keiji glancing at him occasionally. Koutarou suddenly feels really nervous. Technically, it’s Keiji who’s pulled away whenever they get really close to being together, what if he actually doesn’t want anything with Koutarou? What if he’s still doing this out of gratitude?

“Um,” he says, before he can loose his cool. Keiji watches him with that level gaze, and it’s impossible to worm out of now. “Do you wanna… maybe… gotothemoviesaslikeadate?”

Keiji blinks, as though he’s trying to parse that sentence. “Oh,” he says gently. “Oh, a date.” He shifts, watching his hands as he picks at his fingers. “A date. Yes. I’d like that.”

Koutarou watches him suspiciously. “Really? Like, really really?”

Keiji’s eyes fix on his, scanning Koutarou’s expression for a moment before smiling deeply. “ _Yes_ , Koutarou, really really,” he says gently. “I want to.”

“Aw, yeah, there’s this new action movie coming out, it’s about spies and there’s this super bomb and they’ve gotta infiltrate…” Koutarou blurts, grinning, then blushes. “Well. You’ll see.”

Keiji laughs. “Yes, I suppose I will.”

Koutarou extends his hand hesitantly, and Keiji takes it with a smile. “Lead the way,” he whispers.

-X-

Keiji doesn’t move from Koutarou’s side for the entire walk to the movies. He stays curled around his arm as he orders them popcorn, and the lady at the cashier smiles at them, winking at Koutarou. They spend the movie giggling to each other over their popcorn, their arms and legs intertwined.

It’s going really well, Koutarou thinks, and he’s not nervous at all until they step outside and he remembers that they still haven’t ever kissed and now is probably the best time. He pulls Keiji closer while the thought is still fresh and he can’t panic too much, but Keiji seems be doing the same thing, and they end up simply unbalancing each other.

They gawk at each other for a moment, and then Keiji takes Koutarou’s chin in his hand, laughing softly. “Here,” he says, tilting his face a little and then leaning forward to press his lips to Koutarou’s.

It’s tender, like a moment frozen in time. Koutarou hardly notices as his own hands slide up Keiji’s arm and around his waist, pulling him closer, pressing his lips harder against Keiji’s. He can feel Keiji’s long lashes flutter as he melts into the kiss, hands sliding over Koutarou’s shoulders.

He’s soft everywhere, from the velvet of his lips to the silky sweater he likes to wear. His breath is eradic against Koutarou’s nose, but he doesn’t pull away when Koutarou pulls him in, instead looping his arms over Koutarou’s neck. He’s steady, practiced, but whenever Koutarou slides his fingers along his skin, gentle and careful, he looses the rhythm and  instead tries to press closer.

Koutarou lets he hand on Keiji’s waist come up to settle at the back of his neck and pulls away. “I love you,” he whispers.

“I love you too, Koutarou,” Keiji says, and his voice waivers a little, a note of desperation in it, his eyes hovering over Koutarou’s lips.

“You wanna go back to my dorm room for the night?” Koutarou whispers.

Keiji nods, though he seems slightly annoyed at the thought of not kissing for the time it takes them to walk back. Koutarou grins and rubs his nose against Keiji’s, giving him a quick peck on the lips before tugging him along, pulling Keiji close by his waist.

The dorm room feels less suffocating now, but it’s obvious Koutarou hasn’t used it in weeks. Things are still in disarray, books from last semester tossed around, and it’s slightly dustier than usual. “Uh,” he mutters. “Sorry. It’s a mess.”

He hops up to open the window and then bounds back to Keiji, who has settled on his bed, hands cupped politely in his lap. “It’s not, given the circumstances,” Keiji says gently.

Koutarou surveys him. He looks nervous again, though he’s painfully good at remaining composed even when he’s nervous. Koutarou can only tell because he’s picking slowly at his fingers, and he’s not blinking as he watches Koutarou.

“What are you…” Koutarou starts, rubbing at his neck. “… You know. Actually comfortable with?”

“Please don’t put anything in my mouth,” Keiji says automatically, like he’s negotiating a business deal. It’s the sort of tone he had when Koutarou first met him, not the soft mannerisms he had when Koutarou kissed him. “And I don’t want to be on my stomach.”

“Hey,” Koutarou says, sitting beside Keiji and taking his hand, cupping it between his own. Keiji’s shoulders are tense. “We’re not gonna rush into this. Tell me what feels good, and we’ll do it. It’s ok.” He rubs Keiji’s back as Keiji leans into him slightly.

“I…” Keiji murmurs, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. “Yes. I know.” He peers at Koutarou silently for a moment. “You know how I paid for my tuition, right?”

Koutarou shrugs. “I mean… I can guess well enough. I don’t know how far it went, but… well. When we first met…”

“Blow jobs,” Keiji says quietly. “At the very most.” He shudders a little. Koutarou just nuzzles his face into Keiji’s hair. “The man who kept me liked to threaten me more. Tying me down and letting people pay to have their way with me. Somehow I felt that… as long as I was still dressed, it was better, but… I still feel really dirty. Even though I was disgusted by it all.”

He sounds like he’s trying to say it as a defense. Koutarou rubs his back. “It wouldn’t have mattered if you’d liked it, either. You’re not dirty, and that’s not the sort of thing that makes people dirty,” he whispers. “But I’m really sorry that you had to do it at all. I know how scary it all was for you.”

“They always acted like I was so desperate for it,” Keiji breathes. “They were _paying_ me, forcing me into things, and they’d talk like I was _begging_ them. After a while, I started feeling like maybe they were right. I _was_ desperate, and I was there, day after day, getting on my knees for them… It felt like all I was good for, and…”

Koutarou clutches him tight as soon as Keiji’s voice cracks. He shushes him gently, weaving his fingers into Keiji’s feathery hair. “You’re good for a lot of things. You’re really brave and smart and funny. I love spending time with you and I love seeing you and I love knowing you’re happy. Honest, Keiji, you’re wonderful.”

Keiji sniffs into his shoulder. “I need to get tested. For STDs…” he mutters.

“We don’t have to…” Koutarou starts, but Keiji draws back, shaking his head.

“I’ve never done anything that was pleasurable for me. With anyone else or by myself. I’d really like to experience that side of it, for once, if I’ve had to deal with the bad so many times.” He watches Koutarou quietly. “I’d like to experience it with you.”

“Oh,” Koutarou manages. “Oh, you’ve never…? Like… at all?”

Keiji shakes his head, blushing up to his ears.

“Do you want to?” Koutarou offers, not sure where to put his hands as he watches Keiji for signs of nerves. “Like… now?”

Keiji swallows. “Yes,” he rasps.

“Only if that’s what you really, really want, though,” Koutarou insists. “I’m good with whatever!”

Keiji licks his lips. “I really, really want it,” he whispers.

“Ok,” Koutarou breathes. “Then… maybe… less clothes?”

“Can I keep my sweater on?” Keiji whispers. “I’d rather not be naked.” He looks Koutarou up and down, then smirks. “But I wouldn’t mind if you took yours off.”

Koutarou blinks. He feels hot at the suggestion. “Oh. Yeah. Sure. Sure, both of those are… are fine.” He pulls his sweater off, then his shirt, then thumbs Keiji’s jeans button. “Can I?”

Keiji nods, and Koutarou pops the button and pulls off the jeans. “The boxers can go as well,” Keiji whispers.

“Sure?” Koutarou asks, hooking his thumbs into it and watching Keiji’s reaction.

“Quite,” Keiji mutters.

Koutarou drags them down as well, then his own jeans, slowly, giving Keiji a chance to stop him if he’s uncomfortable. Keiji only stops him when he reaches for his own boxers, shaking his head. “If it’s alright, not just yet?” he whispers.

Koutarou smiles. “Yeah. Thanks for letting me know.” He kisses Keiji on the nose, and Keiji smiles back, clearly understanding that Koutarou is proud of him for drawing the line where he wanted it.

“Lay back?” Koutarou offers, and now that he knows Keiji is comfortable saying no, it feels less awkward to keep checking in. Keiji seems relieved to know he’s still doing it, which makes it more than worth the pauses.

Keiji does so, swinging his legs onto the bed. His legs are long and slender, and his hips look good with the sweater barely falling over them. Koutarou kind of wants to see Keiji in nothing but one of Koutarou’s hoodies, but this is a close second. He crawls on top of Keiji, bracing his arms around his head, pushing his hips up enough that Keiji can wriggle out from under them if necessary. “Still ok?”

“Yes, Koutarou,” Keiji says, then smirks again, bringing his hands up to stroke along the biceps. “More than ok.”

Koutarou laughs, sitting back carefully and flexing his biceps dramatically. “Enjoying the gun show?”

Keiji rolls his eyes, but he’s still squeezing the muscles, stroking along towards his shoulders. “Yes,” he murmurs. “But get back down here and kiss me, please.”

“Alright,” Koutarou says, ducking back down and kissing him deeply, resting on his elbows. This kiss is deeper and hotter than the last one. Koutarou runs his tongue along Keiji’s bottom lip, careful not to poke it between his lips. Keiji moans a little, fingers tightening against Koutarou’s back, tracing the muscles that bunch up there as Koutarou leans over him.

They’re both breathless by the time Koutarou pulls away. “You wanna…?” Koutarou breathes, fingers tracing along the inside of Keiji’s thighs.

Keiji gasps in time with the strokes. “Yes,” he says, voice quivering with want. “Very, very much, yes.”

Koutarou grins, shifting so that he can lie beside Keiji, Keiji nestled against his side, one arm curled around him and the other sliding between his thighs. “Good?” he asks.

Keiji shifts a little to get comfortable, then nods. “Good.”

“Let me know if you need to stop.”

“I will,” Keiji assures him.

Koutarou keeps stroking his thighs, watching the milky skin glide under his darker finger tips. His heart is beating a mile a minute, but Keiji’s breaths are hitching with the strokes. Koutarou drags his eyes up, watching Keiji’s eyes, fixed on him, as he slides his fingers up, wrapping them around Keiji’s member, gently, slowly.

Keiji’s eyes flutter closed, and his mouth falls open a little, head  slumping into Koutarou’s shoulder. “Oh,” he whispers. “That _is_ good.”

“Yeah?” Koutarou murmurs into Keiji’s hair. “Should I keep going?” He swirls his thumb around the slit, watching as Keiji jolts into the touch, mouth curving gently around a quick exhale.

“Yes, please,” Keiji says, his voice quiet and strained.

“Ok,” Koutarou replies, pumping his hand gently along the length of Keiji’s cock. It’s long and slender, like him. It’s kind of pretty, in a way. Koutarou presses a kiss to Keiji’s forehead. He’s not sure how he’s gotten such an elegant, beautiful boy like this into his arms, but he’s going to treat him like a treasure now that he’s here. “Still good?”

Keiji only hums appreciatively, head slumping back against Koutarou’s arm, long, sleek neck working around his small moans, eyes shut and long eyelashes fluttering. “You’re so gorgeous, Keiji,” Koutarou whispers. “You’re a work of art.”

Keiji’s eyes open just a sliver, lips parting gently. His eyes are glassy, shoulders shaking as his breaths come in short pants. “Koutarou,” he gasps, like he could live on Koutarou’s name instead of air. “I won’t last.”

“That’s ok,” Koutarou whispers, free hand brushing Keiji’s hair as the other keeps up a steady rhythm. “You can come whenever you want.”

It only takes a few gentle strokes after that, Koutarou’s thumb sliding across the slit, before Keiji is arching into his hand, letting out a strangled cry as he spills into Koutarou’s palm. He twitches as Koutarou pulls his hand away, breathing heavily. Koutarou grabs a tissue to clean it off and lobs it into the trash. “Good?”

Keiji swallows hard, trying to catch his breath. “Yes. V… Very good.” He grimaces a little. “It was very quick, though.”

“Well, you’ll get better with that,” Koutarou says, laughing.

“I certainly hope so,” Keiji mutters. “I’d really like to do more with you.” He glances down at Koutarou’s erection. “Should I…?”

“Nah, don’t worry about it,” Koutarou says. “Until you’re used to this, I’d rather this be about you.”

“I don’t mind…” Keiji murmurs, but Koutarou can tell he’s reluctant.

“Don’t _worry_ ,” Koutarou says, bumping his nose against Keiji’s. “If you want to later, we’ll do more stuff later.”

“Alright,” Keiji sighs, resting his head on Koutarou’s shoulder again. “Thank you, Koutarou.” He rubs gently at Koutarou’s cheek with his thumb. “As usual, you’re shockingly kind.”

Now it’s Koutarou’s turn to blush. “I’m just… I’m not…”

Keiji kisses him gently, his lips like velvet against Koutarou’s chapped and bitten lips. “I love you,” he whispers, as he pulls away.

“I love you too,” Koutarou breathes back, without a thought.

“Sometime, I’d like to feel you inside me,” Keiji murmurs, and Koutarou’s heart stops at those words. “Though… it doesn’t hurt, does it?” He chews at his lip nervously, blinking up at Koutarou as though it’s just occurred to him.

“Not really,” Koutarou murmurs. “You’ve gotta take it really slow. And use lots of lube.”

“Ah,” Keiji says, thoughtful. “Do you bottom with Kuroo?”

Koutarou shakes his head. “Not usually.” He grins. “I think Kenma likes seeing Kuroo thouroughly… de… deb…?” He realizes he doesn’t actually know the word he’s thinking of.

“Debauched,” Keiji volunteers automatically, though he’s clearly still thinking of something else. “Could I watch sometime? I think it might make me less nervous about it.”

“I’ll ask Kenma,” Koutarou says weakly. “Are you sure you want it, though? If you’re nervous…”

Keiji looks his arms and chest up and down. “Oh, I want it,” he says, voice dripping with desire. Koutarou thinks he might be blushing down to his toes. “But yes, it seems… a little much, and I’m not really ready for it just yet.”

“Ok,” Koutarou murmurs. “But you’re ok with more kissing, right?”

“Let me put on my boxers first,” Keiji says, then smiles. “But yes, I am very much ready for more kissing.”

Koutarou grins, only too happy to oblige his eager new boyfriend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next week: the fluff continues. Kuroo is the sweetest of children and Kenma loves him so, so much. Also, he keeps blowing things up and is really upset about it, but at least he is no longer blind as a bat (bless him he really needed glasses).


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> KuroKen fluff! Yeah!
> 
> One more chapter left before I take a week's hiatus, then post Part 2.

Tetsurou wakes up with a face full of cloth and panics, wrenching his head away. He’s used to burying himself in pillows, but usually, he keeps them out of his face. This is a strange occurance for him, and he’s found that spending weeks strapped to a table with people looming over you, injecting painful serums into you is something that kind of leaves you a little jittery.

He sits up quickly, if only to assure himself that he’s able. The gloves are thick on his hands and he can barely move his fingers. It’s more stressful than he cares to admit.

He looks back down, and his heart stutters.

 _Right_.

Kenma, wrapped in his hoody, shirt pulled up around his face, is still asleep next to him. Something coils tight in Tetsurou’s chest at that, and he slips back behind Kenma, burying his face in his boyfriend’s shoulders.

Something has changed between them. Tetsurou can’t quite place it.

He curls his hands into Kenma’s shirt, as though that will make sure that the tectonic shift going on between the two of them will be one that brings them closer to each other.

Kenma stirs with the movement, rolling around. “I’m pulling my shirt down, careful,” he mutters, voice slightly muffled as he struggles with the shirt. His button nose pokes out, and Tetsurou can see his whole face again. He frowns a little, grumpy as always. “I’m not sure I’d like to sleep in a bundle like this every night, but that wasn’t as nerve-wracking as I thought.”

Tetsurou does his best to smile. Things don’t change between him and Kenma often, and he’s never happy when they do, even when it’s for the better. Kenma had to coax him into a romantic relationship over the span of three months when they’d first started.

Kenma sighs, cupping his hands around Tetsurou’s face. “You’re the one who always wanted to sleep with me,” he murmurs. “What’s with that pout?”

“It’s not a pout,” Tetsurou croaks back. He knows it’s petulant, but it’s not like he’s actually petulant very often. Teasing, maybe. Petulant, not so much. He’s earned it.

“Is too.”

“Is not.”

“Is too.”

Kenma kisses his nose, without a single warning or Tetsurou’s persistent begging, careful with his hands as he does so. It’s quick, but Tetsurou’s heart speeds up to twice its normal rate. Tetsurou tucks his head into Kenma’s shoulder.

“You’re ridiculous,” Kenma says softly, gloved hands smoothing through Tetsurou’s hair. “I’m trusting you, like you asked me to. Do you really think that’s going to make us fall apart?”

“Maybe,” Tetsurou mutters.

Kenma sighs, nudging him until he lies back and lets Kenma straddle him. “I thought you were dead,” Kenma whispers. “And it felt like I was dead with you.”

Tetsurou’s mouth goes dry. He’s been doing his best to forget his time as a labrat, a flurry of needles and pain and fear, but it hasn’t occurred to him that Kenma spent that time mourning. Given the two options, Tetsurou feels as though he’d choose to keep taking the sickening pain each day for weeks rather than spend a single day thinking Kenma was dead. “Kitten…” he rasps.

“And the part that hurt the most was that we were splitting apart before I even lost you,” Kenma murmurs. “You _always_ listen to me. And back at that stupid warehouse, you _wouldn’t_.”

“I’m sorry,” Tetsurou manages.

Kenma shakes his head, looking annoyed at the fact that he has to put this into words, something that’s always been difficult for him. “It was my fault. I was pushing you away. I wasn’t trusting you. It needed to change.”

“Okay,” Tetsurou says, grabbing Kenma’s waist as a gesture of acceptance. “Okay, let’s fix it. Together.”

Kenma nods. He closes his eyes and breathes out slowly. “I’m going to try to trust you properly.”

“And I’ll try to be more cautious,” Tetsurou adds. Kenma’s waist feels funny underneath his gloves, but Tetsurou’s blood runs cold at the thought of trying without them. He blushes. “Given the circumstances, I think I get what you were feeling.”

Kenma smirks down at him. Kenma smirks are always the most devastating of smirks, carefully reserved for when he needs to shatter someone’s soul with one look. Usually, it’s Tooru. Today, it seems to be Tetsurou. “Oh, do you?” his sadist of a boyfriend drawls.

“It’s not like I was _ignoring_ your concerns before. But…”

“It’s different from up close,” Kenma says, eyebrow still cocked. A sense of amusment flickers over his face, and he kisses Tetsurou carefully. “I know.”

“You’re really mean sometimes,” Tetsurou whines.

“For someone with such a mean face, you’re really a big baby,” Kenma snorts, pinching his cheek. “I love you.”

Tetsurou can feel himself blushing. Kenma doesn’t like to say I love you first, prefers to concentrate on meaning it when Tetsurou asks him to, rather than saying it first and often. When he does say it, Tetsurou gets the feeling that it’s because it spills over, and he’s a little overwhelmed by how much love that implies. “I love you too,” he mutters, trying not to feel woefully inadequate. “Where are your roommates?” he adds suddenly, because he’s still not used to being under Kenma’s gaze when he’s being intense like this.

Kenma sighs. “Probably at their boyfriends’,” he says. “But I should probably check in with Akaashi.” He thinks for a moment. “And Tooru.”

“Tooru?” Tetsurou asks. As far as he knows, Tooru generally comes and goes as he pleases. It’s not like Kenma to be concerned about it.

Kenma frowns. “It got a little lost in all the chaos, but I get the feeling he’s a bit off,” he mutters. “We all took it pretty hard when we thought we lost you, but I think… Tooru’s been having headaches pretty often.”

“Did you talk to Iwaizumi yet?”

Kenma shakes his head. “I meant to,” he says, avoiding Tetsurou’s gaze. “But… well.”

“Ah. A less familiar person,” Tetsurou teases. “The horror.”

“I made friends with Tobio,” Kenma mutters. “Sort of. I’ve fulfilled my social quota for the next… year.”

“Kageyama Tobio?”

“Yes,” Kenma says, burying his face into Tetsurou’s chest.

Tetsurou laughs. “Oh, well then. A whole year, huh?” Kenma glares at him. “Alright, alright. I’ll talk to Iwaizumi.”

“Thank you,” Kenma mutters. “But I’ll call Akaashi.” He swings his legs over the side of the bed, grabbing his phone from the table and scrolling through the contacts.

Tetsurou stands up, grabbing his toothbrush from the shelf and slipping out of the room to go to the bathroom. He notices Tooru sitting on the stares, shoulders slightly hunched, and frowns, padding towards him.

Tooru jumps when Tetsurou slides down to sit beside him, squeaking a little. “It’s not enough that you look like a villain, you have to walk silently too?!” he snaps, then groans a little, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“You alright, Oikawa?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Tooru mutters, flapping his wrist lazily. “It’s just a bad headache.”

Tetsurou raises an eyebrow at him.

“I’ve told Iwa-chan!” Tooru snaps, eyes wide in defense. “He’ll drag me off to a doctor if it gets too bad for sure!”

 “Kenma’s worried about you,” Tetsurou says, not unkindly. Kenma is always the first to notice when something’s wrong.

Tooru laughs quietly, looking a little ashamed. “It’s nothing, really. It’s been a weird few weeks. I always get headaches from stress.” He looks Tetsurou up and down, face uncharacteristically soft, then nudges his shoulder to Tetsurou’s. “I missed seeing your awful bedhead floating around here.”

Tetsurou chuckles. “Thanks.” He stands, ruffling Tooru’s hair. “Take care of yourself, alright?”

“Alright, alright,” Tooru whines. “I don’t see why everyone thinks I’m dedicated to running myself into the ground.” At Tetsurou’s look he blushes. “Fine. I might have a few bad habits.” Tetsurou doesn’t let up, and Tooru stomps his foot. “I’m not that bad! Mean!” He sticks his tongue out.

Tetsurou laughs and strolls away, waving slightly as he goes.

-X-

“Akaashi is at Koutarou’s,” Kenma says when Tetsurou gets back. He looks Tetsurou up and down appreciatively and extends his arms. “Come here.”

Tetsurou’s heart leaps. He doesn’t get to be the one in Kenma’s arms, little spoon or otherwise, very often. His height is both a blessing and a curse, has been ever since they were little and Tetsurou was the one who cried when he scraped up his knees and yet Kenma was the one who adults hoved over when he scraped his (much to his annoyance).

Before his powers emerged, Kenma was the one who always stopped to give Tetsurou a little kiss on the forehead, and that was always enough to make the pain vanish and get Tetsurou back to his own smirking self. It’s gotten more complicated since then.

He squirms into the bed and nestles his head into the dip of Kenma’s shoulder, wrapping his arms around Kenma and squeezing tight. He loves this. Kenma’s body isn’t large enough to wrap all the way around Tetsurou’s, but with his face in his chest and Kenma’s fingers tracing patterns on Tetsurou’s back, he feels safe.

It occurs to him that with his new strength, Kenma’s arms are probably one of the safest places in the world. He snorts a little at the thought.

“What?” Kenma murmurs, his hand rubbing absently at Tetsurou’s back.

“I’m just thinking how annoyed you would have been if you’d grown up with super strength. People would have been asking you to carry things all the time…”

“I know. There’s a reason I haven’t been using it often. I just know sometime they’re going to need to move a sofa and they’ll make me do it.”

“You’re so stingy, Kenma,” Tetsurou teases.

Kenma sighs. “They’ll make a habit out of it. Constant requests. Open this jar, Kenma, move this furniture, Kenma…” He shudders. “It’d be hell.”

“Oh, my, people… talking to you… So many people…”

“Yes.”

“The horror.”

Kenma wrinkles his nose at him grumpily.

“You know, your best friends outside of me are Koutarou and Tooru,” Tetsurou laughs. “And Akaashi, now. But that’s still two loud people out of three.”

“Yes, but I like all of you.”

“And you hate everyone else?”

“Hate is a strong word. I’m indifferent to everyone else. And I like Shoyo too.”

“You’re so heartless,” Tetsurou laughs. “Would you carry me? If I asked nicely?”

“I did carry you. When you were unconscious. And I’m not heartless, I just like to focus my efforts.”

“But when I’m awake. Like if I’m really sleepy, would you carry me to bed?”

Kenma blushes at that, and Tetsurou grins at the fact that that latest barb hit its mark. Kenma won’t admit it, but he’s a pile of mush for sleepy Tetsurou. Sometimes, Tetsurou will act sleepy just to get Kenma to be extra nice. Sometimes, if Kenma is distracted enough, he can get him to pinch Tetsurou’s cheeks and pat his hair, mumbling praise like Tetsurou is a cat.

It’s adorable.

“… Sure,” Kenma mumbles.

“Ohoooo,” Tetsurou laughs into his chest. “You think I’m cute when I’m sleepy.”

“Do not,” Kenma replies impulsively.

“Do too.”

“Do not.”

“Do toooooo.”

Kenma doesn’t answer this time, stroking at Tetsurou’s hair slowly, cradling him close.

“Eventually we need to get up,” Tetsurou says. “I want to get the hang of this power thing.”

Kenma hums, and they sit up, extracting themselves from each other. Tetsurou moves to get up, but Kenma catches him, a lazy smile on his face. “Kiyoko brought your glasses up while you were brushing your teeth.”

“Oh. Yeah, those,” Tetsurou murmurs.

Kenma looks like he’s itching to see Tetsurou in them as he reaches for the case and pulls out the glasses, unfolding them and slipping them onto Tetsurou’s face. And holy crap, Kenma’s a lot nicer looking when Tetsurou can actually _see._ He can see the individual lashes framing Kenma’s eyes, and the flecks of darker yellow in the gold of his eyes.

“I really needed glasses,” Tetsurou manages.

Kenma clutches his face in his hands. “You could get me to do literally anything in these,” he whispers.

“Admit I’m cute?” Tetsurou laughs with his most innocent look.

“Adorable.”

Tetsurou gasps theatrically. “Finally. A win for Kuroo Tetsurou against his cold-hearted boyfriend…”

“Shush, you’re ruining it,” Kenma says, but he’s smiling.

Tetsurou finds himself blinking at Kenma almost bashfully. “I’m really cute?” he askes. Kenma nods with a hum. “Even with the red eyes?”

“Well,” Kenma says with a cruel smirk, as though he knows exactly what his next words will do to Tetsurou and is enjoying the thought greatly. “Those are just sexy.”

Tetsurou’s heart might have exploded at those words, but Kenma hops off the bed as casually as if nothing has been said. “Come on, the Danger Room should be free for practice.”

-X-

Tooru and Iwaizumi wander into the Danger Room about three hours into Tetsurou’s increasingly desperate attempts to just not… blow things up and Kenma’s increasingly desperate attempts to tell him how to.

Tetsurou blinks at Tooru with a pleading whine. “He just keeps telling me to just… not… do the thing.”

“I told him to learn the feeling of doing it and then to stop doing that,” Kenma mutters. “Which I think is good advice.”

Tooru laughs. “Well,” he mutters. “Yes. I suppose that’s… kind of the goal here. But it’s also not bad to visualize.”

“Thank you,” Tetsurou sighs, as Tooru slides up onto the table. Kenma and Iwaizumi watch him with eerily similar looks, as though his any movement could be an indicator of whether he’s doing badly or not. Right now, he looks alright.

“So, basically, when I was working with my blasts, I’d try to imagine some kind of… Urg… wave, through my head, I guess. It really is hard to verbalize.” Tooru smiles sheepishly.

“So far you’re better at it than Kenma,” Tetsurou mutters, sticking his tongue out at his boyfriend. Kenma just glares silently, then turns back to watching Tooru with clinical precision.

“Anyway, if you know what to visualize, it’s easier to pick up on the sensations,” Tooru continues. “And then… you just… stop… doing the thing.”

“I see,” Tetsurou says solemnly, nodding, though it continues to seem hopeless.

Iwaizumi and Kenma watch them both with withering gazes. Tetsurou leans forward and whispers, “I think our boyfriends are in sync.”

Tooru grins and whispers back a conspiritory, “They have a secret grump communication channel.”

“What do they talk about, I wonder,” Tetsurou murmurs, rubbing his chin in thought.

“Probably about how little they value their super cute boyfriends,” Tooru sing-songs. “Or how much they hate sunshine and flowers and puppies.”

Kenma groans and storms out of the door. Iwaizumi smacks Tooru over the head. He’s noticeably more gentle than usual, and Tetsurou wonders if he’s as concerned as Kenma. Probably more so. Tooru still shrieks as though he’s been punched for real.

“Well,” Tetsurou says. “Back to work.”

In the morning, Kenma had dumped a box of little blocks in front of them, and Tetsurou’s been prodding them and throwing them out of the blast radius since then. The pile has reduced considerably, but Tetsurou doesn’t feel any closer to being able to control this power.

But he’d very much like to touch things normally, thank you very much, so he keeps practicing. Tooru stays with him for a while, but soon enough he’s laying back onto Iwaizumi and sighing, and Iwaizumi has to drag him away to eat. Kenma brings Tetsurou dinner and sits beside him wordlessly as he keeps going.

Akaashi stumbles in eventually, all but glowing. Kenma and Tetsurou stare at him. Akaashi merely raises an eyebrow. “Have you been at it all day?” he asks.

“Yes,” Kenma mutters.

“I think I’m starting to feel the feeling,” Tetsurou mutters, glaring at the block he’s planning to _conscienciously_ blow up next.

“Ah,” Akaashi mutters. “Yes. Have you tried visualizing?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Tetsurou grits out. He’s visualized this in so many ways he can’t stop seeing the energy flow in front of him, in a multitude of very sci-fi-esque colors. “I think there might be a tingling in my fingers when I blow things up.”

“Anyway,” Akaashi says, ignoring Tetsurou’s frustration completely. “McCoy wants to see you. Also, he had me tell Lev as well, so please ask Kenma to dial back the murderous grudge for a little while.”

“It’s not…” Kenma mutters, but Akaashi just throws him a look and closes the door after himself as he leaves.

“Murderous grudge?” Tetsurou asks, raising an eyebrow.

“I did try to kill him,” Kenma sighs, casually, like he’s talking about spilling some milk instead of attempted homicide. Tetsurou tries to imagine Kenma trying to kill someone. Did he try touching him? _Bludgeoning him to death?_ “But I’m over that, now I know you’re alive. I just don’t like him much.”

Tetsurou blinks at him. “Tried to kill him?” he prompts.

“Well,” Kenma mutters, nose twitching slightly as he avoids Tetsurou’s look. “I thought you were dead, and he was the reason we split up and I didn’t get to you in time, and… I lost it.”

“Lost it how?”

“Like… screaming and smashing holes in walls, and…” Kenma stops, going from slightly ashamed to annoyed in a split second when he manages to read Tetsurou’s face. “Are you honestly turned on by this.”

“Yesholyshit,” Tetsurou mutters into the palm of his hand. He coughs. “I mean I feel terrible that you went through that, really, but… the idea of you losing it over me is really… um…”

Kenma rolls his eyes. “You’re unbelievable,” he mutters. “Anyway. I’m over it. Lev’s just really annoying, but I’m not mad.”

“Not even a little?”

“Kuro.”

“Protective, maybe?”

“Don’t.”

“Kenma, come _ooooon_.”

Kenma sighs. “Overprotective rage,” he murmurs. “I’ll do my best to work it in with the other turn ons.” He gives Tetsurou a look as if to say, _the many, many other turn-ons_ , as though Kenma doesn’t have a thousand and one kinks that he pretends don’t get him hot and bothered.

Tetsurou grins at him lazily. “Ok then,” he purrs.

“Get out,” Kenma mutters, shoving him out the door and pausing a moment before following as well.

Akaashi, Koutarou and the new recruits are huddled around McCoy’s research desk. Yaku and Nishinoya, as usual, are still on the defensive. Tetsurou isn’t quite sure what to think of them. He thinks he recalls Yaku from before, guarding him as he struggled to pull at least one wrist from the cuffs around him. The memory is not a kind one, and he’s wary around Yaku. But then again, Yaku is wary around him as well.

As usual, Lev doesn’t notice the tension in the room. Neither does Koutarou, who is, first of all, full of hickeys, and second of all, totally engrossed in watching Akaashi pout as he eyes all of McCoy’s fur, clearly itching to rub his face in it like he does with blankets, sweaters, friends’ hair and most animals.

Akaashi is as addicted to soft things as he is prone to crushes, Tetsurou thinks, and realizes yeah, okay, he’s not Kenma, in that Kenma is literally the love of Tetsurou’s life and Tetsurou would be a mere shell of himself if he were to lose Kenma, but Tetsurou really, really loves Akaashi. And, holy hell, he loves Koutarou too, watching Akaashi like he’s the rarest of flowers.

McCoy smiles at him. “Ah, there you are. I have good news. And bad news, to some extent, but let’s not dwell on that.”

“What’s the good news?” Lev asks, like a kid in a candy store. He’s kind of entertaining to watch, but Tetsurou can see why Kenma might be annoyed by him. Even now, Kenma’s rubbing at his ears the moment Lev’s loud, gratingly honest voice pipes up.

“Well, I have several,” McCoy says. “First of all, it seems the replicated serum is ready. I’d like to do some extra tests, just in case, but hopefully we’ll have it before the three of you run out of the old serum.”

Yaku nods, painfully serious. Lev grins at him. “You see, Yaku-san!” he laughs. “We’ll be alright!”

“Of course, Lev,” Yaku says, and the suspicion in his tone is lost on Lev entirely. Tetsurou gets it, but he decides to be childish and call it ungrateful. His memories of Yaku, from his time in the lab, however vague, aren’t the best first impression.

“Second of all,” McCoy says. “I’ve been doing some analysis on Kuroo-kun’s blood sample. It seems there’s been modifications in his DNA… modifications that seem to originate from Akaashi-kun’s DNA.”

“Excuse me?” Akaashi murmurs, snapping out of his reverie.

“I mean,” McCoy says, “that the process used to give Kuroo-kun powers was probably developed using that latest marrow sample they took from you. Kuroo-kun’s DNA is still stable, unlike those three, so I assume they managed to perfect a newer serum with the same effect. Now… I can’t tell you for sure why you were kept differently from those three, but…” He shrugs. “… it seems likely that they’ve gotten all they needed from you. It’s very likely that you’re entirely in the clear now.”

Akaashi gawks at him for a moment, then wobbles and sinks down into the nearest chair. “S-so… I’m safe?” he croaks. He blinks at Koutarou, then back at McCoy.

McCoy nods. “Very likely.”

Koutarou runs his fingers through Akaashi’s hair, and Akaashi looks up at him with a relieved smile, then buries his face in his chest.

“What’s the bad news?” Yaku says.

 “The changes in the genetic make-up due to the serums,” McCoy says, nodding at the four of them. “They don’t appear to be reversible.”

Yaku and Nishinoya grimace at each other slightly, but Lev seems overjoyed.

Tetsurou glances at Kenma, and he doesn’t exactly want to admit that he’s overjoyed as well. Or will be, when he finally manages to control this stupid thing.

Until something occurs to him and he shudders, looking away.

He murmurs something to Kenma about practicing some more, and Kenma lets him go, moving to talk to Akaashi about something, but his golden eyes follow Tetsurou as he slips out of the room, heart pounding.

He goes back to the Danger Room and keeps trying to get a feel for this in a haze of worry. He nearly leaps out of his skin when a hand wraps around his elbow, jerking away.

Kenma withdraws his hand, holding it out in a calming gesture. “It’s just me,” he murmurs. Kenma’s voice has always been calming to Tetsurou, deep and slightly dusty, but quiet, quiet enough to evaporate back into silence if Tetsurou lets it. Listening to it is like letting a gentle stream wash over him.

“Yeah,” he says, the dry feeling in the back of his throat strangling him. “Hey.”

“You’re thinking even if Akaashi’s off the hook, they might want another look at their first successful specimen, right?” Kenma says, fingers sliding up his arm.

“You don’t?” Tetsurou whispers, letting Kenma’s fingers make their way to the back of his neck to pull his forehead down onto his hooded head, positioning him strategically and holding him tight.

“I think I’ll kill anyone who tries to get to you,” Kenma says, and Tetsurou shivers at the unforgiving edge of his tone.

“I’m going to be jerking off to this for a month,” Tetsurou rasps. He’s always liked this side of Kenma, to be honest, the unshatterable stubbornness that lies behind his shyness, but it’s not often that Kenma gets riled up enough for it to be this visible. Tetsurou isn’t sure if it’s this side of Kenma or the fact that Tetsurou’s the one to tug it to the surface, but it sends warmth curling through his stomach.

“Also,” Kenma says quietly. “You’re touching something.”

Tetsurou blinks down and sees that’s he’s been rolling one of the blocks in his fingers as they talk. The moment he does notice, the block lights up and he has to toss it away quickly.

Kenma smirks at him when he looks back.

“Damnit,” Tetsurou mutters. “I wasn’t paying attention, I don’t know how I did that.”

“Stay _calm_ ,” Kenma says, a smile toying at his lips. “You’re overthinking it.”

Tetsurou sighs. “I want to be able to touch you again.” His heart stutters. He’s not sure how Kenma will react to the idea of _touching him,_ since it’s technically an impossibility anyway. “I mean…” he mutters, but Kenma just leans back onto the table.

“I know what you mean, and I’m looking forward to it,” Kenma says. His eyes glint, ever so slightly, and anyone but Tetsurou would think he’s still bored. But this is Tetsurou, and he _knows_ that look and gods, it gets a nearly Pavlovian response out of him as his throat goes hot and dry. “Especially since Akaashi would like to see you and Koutarou fucking, and I think watching you clutching at the sheets is really one of the highlights.”

He gives Tetsurou a quick nip on his ear, leaving him torn between _No fair you wasted a perfectly good kiss on the lips_ and _Holy shit Kenma touched_ me _without asking_ and _Oh fuck I’m really turned on right now._

He swallows hard and picks up the next block. Obviously, it explodes with barely enough time for Tetsurou to snatch away his hand.

“It’s hard to stay calm when you’re intentionally giving me a boner,” Tetsurou whines.

Kenma just snickers. Tetsurou’s boyfriend is an evil asshole, but at least he’s a cute evil asshole.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next week: I'm going to end this on a BokuAkaKuroKen note! ^_^


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did not edit this chapter as much as I usually do because at some point I figured if I don't post it now I'm never gonna, so if you find any glaring mistakes feel free to let me know.
> 
> Ah! Anyway. It's the last chapter of this section and it ends in cuddles! ^_^
> 
> Sex is roughly from "He lifts it with one arm, making sure not to ignore the hungry flash in Tetsurou’s eyes." to "Tetsurou shrugs. “Alright.” He sits up. "
> 
> Enjoy!

Watching Tetsurou practice his powers is the most frustrating thing that Kenma has ever had the misfortune of sitting through. As though their relationship needed more restrictions on touching.

Of course, it’s more frustrating for Tetsurou, who’s been the center of attention recently. He and Kenma had recently visited his parents, tan and full of stories from Egypt, not to mention a thousand kisses for both Tetsurou and a reluctant Kenma. Kenma’s parents had been just as glad to see them, but it had been a more reserved affair.

And of course, he’d lauched himself right back into classes the moment they started. Really, it says something about how good a student he is that he managed to smooth things over with his teachers after disappearing for so long. Kenma’s incredibly proud of him.

Luckily, he has a lot of classes with Iwaizumi, since they’re both pre-med, and Iwaizumi has been happy to take notes for him. The only kicker, really, is homework. His gloves are too bulky for writing, so he’s spent the past few weeks, whenever he’s not practicing, running after people and getting them to write down his homework for him.

There is only so much advanced chemistry that Kenma is willing to write for his boyfriend, and Akaashi and Koutarou are even worse. Akaashi doesn’t even understand half of what Tetsurou is saying (they are in catastrophically different majors, after all) and Koutarou can barely sit still for long enough.

In the end, Tetsurou ends up sulking and sucking up to Suga for his help.

Every evening, after Suga finally manages to jot down all of Tetsurou’s homework for him, Tetsurou spends hours in the Danger Room. After a while, Tobio notices that Kenma is often with him, and after the third offer to do a simulation with him, Kenma finally concedes. It’s better than watching Tetsurou repeatedly fail.

Tetsurou gawks at him when he says yes, though. “ _You’re_ doing combat training?” he splutters.

“I might as well,” Kenma says. “It was kind of fun the last time, I guess.” Or at least, he suspects it might have been, if he hadn’t been so worried for Tetsurou.

“Holy shit who _are_ you?” Tetsurou asks.

Kenma rolls his eyes. “I’m an alien, here to invade. Don’t tell Tooru, or he’ll want an autograph.”

“Alright, alright, smart alec,” Tetsurou mutters. “It’s just not like you, you know?”

“I know,” Kenma says. He hasn’t quite sifted through his reasons yet, and Tetsurou knows it. Tetsurou always gives him time to let his own emotions trickle down into something comprehensible.

“Well, have fun,” Tetsurou says.

Tobio watches him with something like eagerness in his face. Kenma tries to smile at him, but now he’s wondering why he’s doing this.

Of course, it _is_ fun. Tiring, and Kenma gives in far before Tobio is ready to, but fun. He has to think about it, figure out how best to get Tobio to cover him. He’s a little sore, both from bruising and from strain, but it’s a good sort of sore. He doesn’t think he’d do this without Tobio’s prodding, but with it…

… he might kind of like it.

When he gets out, sweaty and exhausted, Tetsurou brandishes a block into his face. “Hah!” he cries. “I’ve got it!”

Kenma blinks. “What, did you have stage fright?” he teases.

“No!” Tetsurou cries. He goes red and looks down at the block. “I just kind of realized why I was on edge this whole time and I think it was just keeping me from calming down properly.”

Kenma raises his eyebrow. “Do you want to talk about it?” he asks.

“Well,” Tetsurou mumbles. “Obviously I’m worried someone will try to kidnap me.”

“I think we agreed the solution to that was murder.”

“Yes. So… that’s ok,” Tetsurou continues, sighing. “But it’s also weird when you change. You never change, you know? And so I kinda get scared when you do because a lot of the time I feel like you only like me because I’ve been around so long that you don’t know what else to do with me.”

“Kuro, that is the dumbest thing you ever said,” Kenma sighs.

“I know,” Tetsurou snaps. “I’m not saying it makes sense, it’s just how I feel. But now I realized that you’ve changed a lot in the past few weeks… months, I guess. With the new powers and the whole death scare and taking care of me and… all that is new, and you’re getting really, really badass, and… well, you’re still… here, you know?”

Kenma sighs. “Of course I’m here. Look at you, you’ve got a heart of gold, you’re good at everything you put your mind to, you’re extremely intelligent and you’re basically sex personified. Why would I ever leave you?”

Tetsurou looks like he’s been in the sun for too long, in more than one way. “Oh,” he says. “I don’t even know… which part of that to focus on.”

Kenma rolls his eyes. “Honestly, I can’t believe you worry about this.”

“Well…” Tetsurou says, looking at his toes. “I’m not gonna worry about it anymore, alright? And… and I think that was my hang up, because… look!”

He lifts the block again, grinning.

“Now blow it up on purpose and I’ll be impressed,” Kenma says.

Tetsurou’s brow furrows, but after a minute or so the block lights up and explodes as he tosses it. Kenma’s eyebrow quirks in admiration. “Ha!” Tetsurou says.

“Ha,” Kenma replies, the corners of his mouth twitching despite himself.

-X-

Tetsurou keeps practicing for nearly another month, until he can manage to charge something and then withdraw it, before discarding the gloves. At that point, he’s realized what Kenma, too, has been thinking about this whole time.

“So when are we doing this fourway… thing,” he asks, at some point, while Kenma is bent over some game or other.

Kenma blinks up at Tetsurou. “Should I ask Akaashi?”

Tetsurou takes a large breath and heaves it out in a sigh. “Uh… yeah. Yeah, I’m ready. But we’re gonna… like… have a movie night before or something, like… it’s not just gonna be… all sex, right?”

Kenma smiles. “We can do whatever you like,” he says.

“Okay,” Tetsurou manages. “Then… um… I’m gonna pick a movie and you talk to Akaashi.”

“Alright.”

He watches his boyfriend stumble out of the room and down the stairs, trying not to laugh, then trots down himself and outside, to the backyard, where Akaashi is sitting on the edge of one of the fountains, one hand skimming through the water gently and the other holding a book. The light of the fountain reflects back onto him, and he looks like an angel.

“Hey,” Kenma calls, pointing at the seat beside Akaashi. “Can I?”

Akaashi nods. “Feel free, I’m only reading,” he says. “Did you want to say something?”

“Yes, but it’s not urgent,” Kenma assures him.

“Then I’ll finish the chapter.”

Kenma nods his assent and sits beside Akaashi, watching him as his eyes skim the pages quickly. He’s calm, shoulders loose, eyes a little hooded, leaning back now onto his free hand. He closes the book gently when he finishes the chapter. “What was it, Kenma?” he asks, a hint of a smile in his eyes.

“Kuro’s feeling ready for… what we talked about.” He feels odd being blunt around Akaashi, especially when he’s gathered enough information about the worst of Akaashi’s experiences. He looks Akaashi up and down. “Are you?”

“Hm?” Akaashi hums, thoughtful. “Oh, me. Yes. Though I won’t be participating very much. I just want to watch.”

Kenma smiles. “They’re both very attractive, aren’t they?”

“And kind,” Akaashi says softly. He looks so at ease lately, like he’s been here for ages and knows all the ups and downs of the Institute. It’s easy to forget it’s only been a few months. It hadn’t been, when he’d first gotten here. He’d been shaky, always wary.

That seems to have vanished from him entirely. Kenma suddenly can’t recall the last time Akaashi had a nightmare. Of course, Koutarou and Tetsurou have been around for the nights quite frequently lately, but still.

Kenma watches him, quietly, trying to figure out exactly when the shift occurred. “You seem different lately. It’s nice with Koutarou, isn’t it?” he says finally.

“Yes, that’s the largest factor,” Akaashi says, tilting his head back into the sun lazily. “But I think what McCoy said also helps.”

“You think you’re in the clear?”

“Possibly. More so than I used to be. I still have plenty of questions.” He shrugs with a slow roll of his shoulders. “But I think he was trying very hard to let me have a bit of piece of mind, and I won’t let it go to waste. There’s still an organization of some kind out there that has kidnapped me not once, but twice, and gods know what they’re up to nowadays.”

He glances at Kenma, who looks away so he can think it through.“I think it can wait, though, for now. The Professor is apparently looking into who they are at all, and I don’t get the feeling they’ll make another attempt at the Institute, so it’s really none of my concern at the moment. That’s a peaceful thought.”

“You’ve earned that,” Kenma murmurs.

Akaashi smiles at him. “Thank you,” he says. “I don’t know where I’d be without you, Kenma.”

Kenma smiles back. “Likewise.”

“So,” Akaashi says, elegantly clutching his book like he’s discussing a school plan. “We were discussing sex.”

Kenma chuckles. “Yeah,” he says. “Kuro wants to watch a movie together before we get to it.”

“And they say romance is dead,” Akaashi laughs. “I’d very much like that. I think I’d feel pretty out of place if we were to just get straight to tossing our boyfriends together.”

Kenma smirks. “Well, when you put it like that,” he says. “You’re right.”

Akaashi laughs, and it’s one of the sweetest sounds he’s ever heard (though he still prefers Tetsurou’s appalling donkey laugh, gods help him.) They talk first about schedules and plans and then just digress into vague chatting, which Kenma usually hates, but Akaashi has interesting ideas and he’s fun to talk to, and he’ll listen to Kenma talking about his games for a good long while.

This all feels so right, somehow, seeing Akaashi at ease and being able to connect with him, and Kenma is getting all the more eager for all four of them to do something.

-X-

Date night rolls around, Tooru long gone for his own date, and Kenma’s actually anxious. He’s glad they’re watching a movie, because that doesn’t really require quick movements or speaking. They watch Guardians, Tetsurou’s pick, and it’s a fun movie, something Kenma can get involved in.

He slips his head into Tetsurou’s lap, hood up, and his feet in Koutarou’s, and Akaashi sits on the floor in front of them, arm around Koutarou’s leg and head on Kenma’s stomach. It’s comfortable, and by the time the movie ends, a part of Kenma doesn’t want to move at all, just doze off right here without any sex at all.

The other part, currently louder, is _very_ aware that it’s been a while since he saw his boyfriend unwravel into a pool of pleasure. In the end, though, it’s Akaashi who tugs on his sweater. “Are we doing this?” he asks, equal parts nervous and excited.

Kenma nods, sitting up slowly and stretching his arms. “Bedroom it is, then,” he says, and starts up the stairs without looking back. Now that he’s thinking about it, he’s nervous too. This is the first time Akaashi has been with them, and Kenma feels a little like he’s got to make it good enough for him.

He contemplates their room for a moment, hearing the others shuffling behind him. He finally decides to drag Akaashi’s bed over so he has a place to watch from. He lifts it with one arm, making sure not to ignore the hungry flash in Tetsurou’s eyes.

This is the first time that Tetsurou will be fucked properly since Kenma’s new powers.

Koutarou watches, leaning against the door. It’s always Kenma who directs these things, and he’s always been fine with that. Akaashi watches him, as though trying to determine what he should be doing. In just a moment, Kenma will hand over the reigns, because actually this time this is about Akaashi, but for now he stands before Tetsurou and pulls on his belt, undoing the buckle with his eyes fixed on Tetsurou’s.

Tetsurou’s breath hitches, but he stands quietly, with his shoulders relaxed as Kenma undresses him methodically, first pulling down his jeans, then pulling off the flannel over his shirt, then tugging until Tetsurou pulls up his shirt for him (he’s far too tall, damnit) and then pulling off his boxers.

Tetsurou shifts then, blushing, suddenly unable to meet Kenma’s eyes. Kenma pauses. “You’re still ok with this, right?”

“It’s weird being the center of attention,” Tetsurou whines. “Especially when I’m the only one who’s naked.”

“Will it help if I get undressed?” Koutarou blurts, failing to sound any less than eager.

Tetsurou nods, and Koutarou leaps to indulge him, snatching off his shirt and pants in a flash. Kenma is almost impressed with how neatly and quickly he manages to do it. He glances at Akaashi quickly, and at a nod from him, he pulls his boxers off too.

“Better?” Koutarou asks, grinning and displaying his biceps. Akaashi snorts and shakes his head, and Tetsurou grins.

“Yeah,” he says. “Thanks.”

“Are you ready?” Kenma asks, checking Tetsurou’s face for signs of discomfort.

“Yes,” Tetsurou says, and he still seems ever so slightly nervous, but Kenma is also ever so slightly nervous.

“You’re sure?” he asks, though, just in case.

“Positive,” Tetsurou says.

Kenma smiles and puts his hands around Tetsurou’s waist and pulls him up, relishing in the punched out little noise that Tetsurou makes when Kenma deposits him on the bed. He pulls Tetsurou close, kisses him quickly, and then steps back. “He’s all yours,” he tells Koutarou.

“You mean, like…” Koutarou says quietly. “I can do whatever I want?”

“Within reason,” Tetsurou cuts in.

Koutarou squawks indignantly. “Bro, what do you think I want to do to you?”

“I don’t know, something embarrassing, probably.” Tetsurou says, crossing his arms and humphing.

“I can’t believe you don’t trust me,” Koutarou whines.

“You’re a human disaster, why would I trust you?” Tetsurou says, sticking out his tongue.

Koutarou pouts and turns away with his nose turned up. “You’re so mean, why do I even want to have sex with you?”

“My animal magnetism, clearly.”

Kenma rolls his eyes. “Akaashi wanted to watch, so I thought it might be nice for him to see how Koutarou likes to do things, so I won’t backseat drive this time.” He glances at Tetsurou. “If that’s alright.”

Tetsurou nods. “I’m only kidding. I trust Kou.”

Koutarou gasps theatrically. “Wait but that means I’m having sex with Tetsurou for real.” He gasps even louder. “I just called him Tetsurou!” He whirls around and grabs Akaashi’s face, startling him. “That’s ok, right, you’re not angry?”

“Koutarou, calm _down_ , we’ve all agreed on this,” Akaashi says evenly, patting the back of Koutarou’s neck to ressure him.

“Ok,” Koutarou says slowly. “Yeah.” He grins. “Yeah, we did agree on this!” He bounds over to Kenma’s bed and hops up behind Tetsurou.

“Ok, you might want to take a deep breath before you get anywhere near my ass,” Tetsurou warns. “You’re looking a little overexcited.”

Koutarou huffs. “I’m gonna do a good job, sheesh,” he says. “Besides, I wasn’t planning on getting straight into your ass.” He waves his arm impatiently. “Come here, I wanna kiss you.”

Tetsurou snorts, but he does so, turning around so that he can lean over his crossed legs to kiss Koutarou. Koutarou places his hand at the back of Tetsurou’s neck, pulling him into it and deepening the kiss. Kenma gestures to Akaashi, who is still pressed to the doorframe, watching transfixed.

Kenma pats the spot in front of him as he sits back onto Akaashi’s bed. Akaashi pads over to him, pulling off his own jeans so he’s in nothing but his boxers and Koutarou’s hoodie. Koutarou’s attention slides away from Tetsurou to look at him, and then he breaks away from their kiss to look at him over Tetsurou’s shoulder.

“Hey, is it ok if I use tongue here, Keiji? I know you don’t like it, but Tetsurou does, so…”

“It’s quite alright,” Akaashi says with a smile. Kenma can tell the question means a lot to him. He’s proud of Koutarou for being able to adjust to Akaashi so well. Koutarou doesn’t always read people right, but he has an inate talent for supporting them emotionally.

“Okay,” Koutarou says happily, and dives back in, licking into Tetsurou’s mouth quickly and pulling him even closer, one hand on his neck and another on the small of his back.

Kenma hears the small sigh that Tetsurou gives as his eyes flutter shut. He’s spent a lot of time discussing this with Koutarou, and he can almost imagine the way it would feel to kiss Tetsurou just the way he likes – tongue running across the roof of his mouth, tilting his head back just a fraction, occasionally nipping at his bottom lip.

He runs his fingers though Akaashi’s hair to ease the tension as he watches intensely and tries to envision the sensations, his tongue pressed to the top of his own mouth to simulate it.

Before long, Koutarou pushes Tetsurou back onto the bed, tugging his long legs out so they dangle over the edges of the bed. Somehow, Kenma has always found the fact that Tetsurou’s legs are long enough for the bed to fit between his spread knees terribly arousing, though it might just be the pure thought of Tetsurou’s spread legs.

He licks his lips, almost breaking and getting back to calling the shots, but the moment before he does, Akaashi’s breath hitches and he looks down, seeing the enraptured look on his beautiful face as he watches Tetsurou tumble back, Koutarou’s back flexing deliciously as he perches over him, devouring him with a hungry kiss.

Kenma refocuses, makes sure his attention is mostly on Akaashi, even as he watches the treat before him, because he can’t exactly ignore the way his boyfriend’s hands twitch up to Koutarou’s back desperately as he bends to allow him entrance to his mouth.

Koutarou pulls back eventually, leaving Tetsurou panting, but Koutarou is focused, nearly predatory as he watches him. Kenma passes him the lube. “Would you like him to wear a condom?” he asks Akaashi, who blinks up at him as though he’d forgotten Kenma was there.

“Oh,” he breathes. “No.” He looks back, eyes hungry. “No, I don’t.”

“Alright then,” Kenma says, and Koutarou grins, making sure Tetsurou isn’t looking before he darts down, sucking Tetsurou’s cock into his mouth, drawing a startled yelp from Tetsurou.

Tetsurou glares down at him, smacking him lightly over the head, and Koutarou grins up at him as well as he can with Tetsurou’s cock still in his mouth. He closes his eyes, mouth working at the head as he clicks open the lube with one hand and drizzles it over the fingers of the other. He presses his fingers ever so gently to Tetsurou’s hole, and Kenma can see him knead at the skin there, rubbing the lube into the skin as he sucks at Tetsurou’s head, inching his fingers in, painfully slowly.

Tetsurou’s head falls back, his face relaxing into a sort of content pleasure. He barely even shifts when Koutarou slides the first finger in, one hand coming up to toy with Koutarou’s hair as Koutarou works that finger in and out slowly.

“It’s not painful, right?” Akaashi says gently, and Tetsurou cracks one eye open at the question.

He smiles. “Not like this, no. Kou’s good at taking his ti—“ he cuts off into a loud moan, and Koutarou pulls off with a pop, grinning cheekily.

“That’s the prostate,” he says happily, winking at Akaashi, who rolls his eyes, a small smile on his face. “It’s really good, right Tetsu?”

“Kou…” Tetsurou gasps, jerking as Koutarou keeps moving that finger. “I was…” He groans, head falling back. “…explaining…” The sentence dwindles away completely as Koutarou keeps going, without a pause.

Koutarou works in a second finger carefully, and he must keep rubbing at Tetsurou’s prostate as he does it, because the moans and whines are becoming faster and louder as Tetsurou’s nose scrunches up in pleasure. “I thought we were demonstrating,” Koutarou teases. “Come on, tell Keiji how good it is now.”

“G… good,” Tetsurou manages, head thrown back and his toes curling wildly. Koutarou laughs. “S…so- _oh_ good, _oh, fuck_.”

Koutarou’s eyes meet Kenma’s, and they share their own moment in that quick look. Kenma can’t say they’re nearly as different as the average person might think, and there have been plenty of times when the one person who understood him the most was Koutarou, but this has always been their biggest common ground, a love of jerking Tetsurou out of his over-thinking and into a pool of mindless pleasure.

Of course, the great part of this whole arrangement (besides the fact that this is the safest way for Kenma to watch the glory of Tetsurou getting fucked) is that Koutarou has the physical power to back up this desire. He shoves in the third finger, then takes each of Tetsurou’s legs and tosses them over Koutarou’s shoulders, like Tetsurou is made of straw.

Akaashi hisses at that, which is the only reason that Kenma manages to remember he’s even there when he sees the way that Tetsurou’s back curves, displaying the entirety of his long neck and the way his throat works as he groans with the assult on his senses as Koutarou works his fingers in, stretching him efficiently, hitting his prostate repeatedly at the angle Koutarou and Kenma have both noticed Tetsurou likes.

He chokes out a sigh when Koutarou pulls his fingers out and lets down one of his legs, so that Tetsurou’s hips are still slanted up a little but his legs are spread.

“Ready?” he asks.

Tetsurou holds up a finger. “I’m…” he gasps, eyes squeezed shut. “I need a second or I’m gonna come the second you push in.”

Koutarou grins. “Jeez, you’re sensitive,” he laughs.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize it was _sensitive_ to come after you’ve been _nailing my prostate this whole time,_ ” Tetsurou snarks right back, even though Kenma knows that he is _definitely_ sensitive, even if he’s stamina’s improved since the first time Kenma fingered him.

Koutarou leans his head back and whines. “Come _oon_ , Tetsu, are you ready yet?”

Tetsurou rolls his eyes. “You’re so demanding,” he mutters.

“Only because you are too,” Koutarou shoots back.

“Alright, alright,” Tetsurou sighs. “Fuck me already.”

Kenma enjoys this. He likes seeing the subtle differences between how Tetsurou melts for him and how he bickers with Koutarou, intense with Kenma and playful with Koutarou. Tetsurou molds himself to other people, and yet they all mold themselves to him as well. Kenma is curious to see how Koutarou responds to Akaashi.

It’s probably not unlike how he is now, focused and unrelenting, but still gentle somehow, pressing in just the right pace for Tetsurou to take him comfortably, in a little, out, in a little more… Tetsurou gasps, arms wrapping around Koutarou’s shoulder, jaw slack. Koutarou pushes in to the hilt, then stops. “You alright?” he asks. “Can I move?”

Tetsurou pauses, then nods. “Please,” he manages, as though he meant to make it into a sarcastic remark but it broke somewhere in the middle and became a desperate plea.

Koutarou repositions himself so that he’s perched over Tetsurou, holding his raised leg tight and balanced over his head with one strong arm. His eyes go sharp with the kind of instinctual intelligence that Koutarou possesses boundless amounts of, and then he pulls back, then back in, testing the thrust once, then twice, then settling into a hard rhythm, not fast, not slow, but hard enough to shake Tetsurou’s whole body with each thrust.

Tetsurou moans, his throat working through the noises. Koutarou hums, slightly dissatisfied, tilting his hips a little differently, and this time, Tetsurou’s cry is loud and guttural, pulling a dark, proud grin from Koutarou. It’s animal, somehow, how Koutarou fucks Tetsurou, absolutely zeroed in on his every move, but his thrusts are careful, and Kenma can see his eyes track his twitching for signs of discomfort.

He looks down at Akaashi, but Akaashi is transfixed by Tetsurou, because honestly, who wouldn’t be, when he’s shaking into the thrusts, clawing desperately at Koutarou’s back, nonsense spilling from his lips in that thick, honey-sweet voice, hair falling over his eyes, lanky but toned muscles jerking as his toes curl and his mind unwravels.

Still, Kenma catches Koutarou’s eyes, and he knows, without a shadow of doubt, that this will be their new common hobby. He leans forward, very carefully running a finger under Akaashi’s chin and tilting it up so that he can see the hungry way that Koutarou is eyeing him now, even as he thrusts into Tetsurou. His mouth curves around a quiet “Oh,” and Kenma pats the bed before him.

“If you want me to jerk you off I can,” he says quietly.

Akaashi blinks up at him, then unfolds himself and sits in front of Kenma, graceful even in the way he scrambles to slide off his boxers. Kenma grabs the box of gloves from the dresser. He pulls the gloves on slowly. Tetsurou likes the snap of the gloves ( _“I’m pre-med, Kenma, do you know how impractical this fetish is?”_ ) but he doubts Akaashi will.

“Let me know if you’re uncomfortable,” he says, drizzling lube over the rubber. It’s a thinner kind of rubber, much less cold, found after hours and hours of searching online with Tetsurou, but he rubs his fingers together to warm them before he reaches forward and wraps his fingers around Akaashi’s cock.

Akaashi gasps, and Kenma thinks he might be just as sensitive as Tetsurou. That thought makes his mouth water as he runs his fingers along Akaashi’s cock, testing where he seems to like it best, letting Akaashi fall back over his shoulder, head sliding along the side of Kenma’s hood.

His voice is like velvet, and his moans are quiet, especially given how Tetsurou’s moans are growing louder and more desperate as Koutarou fucks him steadily, watching Akaashi’s throat like he wants to sink his teeth into it.

Tetsurou comes first, crying out and tensing like he’s been electrocuted, spilling all over himself. Koutarou fucks him straight through it with hard, fast thrusts, and he manages to push himself over the edge just as Tetsurou keens a little with the sudden oversensitivity, hunching over as he shudders through his orgasm, teeth clenched in a growl.

Akaashi shudders and comes a few strategically placed tugs later.

The room smells like sex, and everyone is panting. Kenma extracts himself from Akaashi and opens the window in the hopes of airing out the worst of the smell before Tooru gets home. He hands Akaashi a tissue, then grabs another to clean Tetsurou, enjoying the small jerk of abs he gets when he touches him.

He smiles down at Tetsurou, who gives him an exhausted smirk back. “Love you,” he croaks.

“Love you too,” Kenma says.

Koutarou sits back, gasping. “That was fun,” he says.

Akaashi slumps back against the bed, spreading his arms over the blanket. “I don’t think I can do this often. That was very… intense.”

Tetsurou chuckles. “How do you think I feel?” he asks. He eyes Kenma carefully. “Kitten, did you want to come?”

Kenma shakes his head. “Not today.” Today was about Akaashi, and also about Tetsurou, and it’s hard to get himself out of that mindset and into one where he’d enjoy an orgasm.

Tetsurou shrugs. “Alright.” He sits up. “I need to shower. I still feel sticky.”

Akaashi sits up, looking at him hesitantly. “Um,” he says, and they watch him as he struggles through the rest of the words. “I might come with you.”

“Alright,” Tetsurou says, though he seems to sense that this is bigger confession than it seems.

Akaashi blushes under his expectant look. “I… no one’s ever seen me entirely naked before,” he murmurs.

“Do you want one of my shirts?” Tetsurou asks. “It’s not the most comfortable to shower in, but…”

“No, I just…” Akaashi says. “Well I’d feel comfortable with you right now, but I like Koutarou to be the first for all these things and…”

Koutarou laughs, strolling over to kiss Akaashi’s forehead. “It’s alright,” he whispers. “I don’t have to be the first for everything. I can give Tetsu a few wins.”

“So kind,” Tetusrou laughs. “And is that nickname staying?”

“Do you hate it? Should I stop?” Koutarou cries.

“Nah,” Tetsurou says. “It’s nice. I think I could get used to it.” He holds his hand out for Akaashi. “Come on, baby bird.”

“No,” Akaashi says, raising an eyebrow. “Find a new nickname.”

“Harsh,” Tetsurou whines. “Even Kenma accepts kitten.”

Kenma actually loves the nickname, but there are some things he cannot admit. Ever. “Only because you won’t stop using it,” he says.

“Damn right I won’t,” Tetsurou says plainly, wrapping his arm around Akaashi’s shoulders. “But I’ll let Akaashi take his pick, because he’s taller and could probably take me in a fight.”

Kenma frowns at him. “I can lift a car,” he reminds Tetsurou.

“Details,” Tetsurou says, dragging a laughing Akaashi out the door.

“They’d literally be the most attractive couple in the world,” Koutarou says once the door is closed.

“Oh yes,” Kenma says. “Yes, we both won the boyfriend lottery.”

Koutarou laughs and holds out his fist for a fist bump. Kenma indulges him. “Thank you,” he says. It’s become a tradition, though he’s never managed to clarify what the thank you is for. Thank you for taking care of him, thank you for doing a good job, thank you for being here for us even when I didn’t talk things out with you right, thank you for loving him with me.

Usually, this is where Koutarou gets flustered. This time, though, Koutarou looks back at him and smiles. “Same,” he says.

Kenma chews at his lip for a moment, then says, “You can kiss me, if you like.” Koutarou’s whole face lights up at that. “But just quickl…”

Koutarou grabs him and kisses him deeply before he can finish. It takes two seconds for Kenma to regain his footing and push him off and half a second to push him off, and the (roughly) three second mark hits Koutarou like a ton of bricks and he falls right off the edge of the bed, out cold.

Generally, Kenma would sigh and remind himself that this was too fast to kill anyone, and wait for Koutarou to wake up for him to scold him about being more careful.

Generally, Kenma doesn’t have Koutarou’s moodswings to deal with, which are _apparently_ just as contagious and powerful as any memory Kenma’s ever dealt with.

Generally… is not now.

Kenma and Koutarou are going to be in trouble with their boyfriends for the _rest of their lives_ , because quite frankly if there was ever an instance of two people having a heart attack at the very same moment, it was the moment that Akaashi and Tetsurou got back to an unconscious Koutarou and a babbling, panicking Kenma.

In the end it’s Akaashi who calms everyone down and gets his boyfriend a glass of water. Kenma has to lay down once the moodswing recedes, and Tetsurou won’t stop glaring at Koutarou, who is nursing quite the headache. It is arguably the worst ending to a fairly good time, and even this yet leaves Kenma feeling strangely happy.

Eventually, they drag the beds together, and Kenma arranges his sleeping bag beside them, then crawls back up beside Tetsurou to cuddle until they decide to sleep. They end up watching cat and owl videos until Tooru comes home, just long enough to drag a toothbrush and wink at them, then dash back down to meet Iwaizumi.

Everything feels right like this, Akaashi lazily draped over Koutarou, not a worry in the world, Koutarou occasionally prodding at him when there’s something especially cute in the videos ( _Did you see, Keiji, Keiji look?_ ) while Akaashi murmurs gently to placate him. Tetsurou has one arm around Koutarou’s shoulders, legs tangled with Akaashi’s, and Kenma has his head nestled under the other.

“You know,” Koutarou says suddenly. “We’re really… like… balanced.”

“Hmm?” Akaashi says, clearly about to nod off.

“Well I just mean… like… you’re the only one who didn’t grow up with us, and I’m the only human now, and Kenma’s the only one who can’t touch and… and…”

Tetsurou raises an eybrow at him. “Yes?”

“You’re the biggest nerd,” Kenma mutters, and Koutarou laughs.

“I can’t help that I’m smart,” Tetsurou says.

“You could always stop laughing so hard about chemistry puns,” Akaashi suggests.

“I _like_ chemistry puns, they’re clever,” Tetsurou whines. “And also, I’d like to point out that all three of you were drooling over me not one hour ago.”

“Well, you look much cooler than you are. I’d like to propose a different sort of balance, though,” Akaashi says, closing his eyes again and snuggling closer. “I feel very safe with all of you.”

“I feel close to all of you,” Kenma says, reaching over Tetsurou to squeeze Akaashi’s hand.

Koutarou gasps. “I get it!” His face screws up in concentration. “You all make me feel stable.”

Akaashi smiles at that, nuzzling his face into Koutarou’s chest.

“Well, alright,” Tetsurou says, blushing head to toe. Kenma tries not to smile. “You all make me feel important.”

“Bro,” Koutarou says, voice quiet for once, blinking at Tetsurou. “You’re important.”

Tetsurou leans his head on Koutarou’s. “Yeah, I know,” he says. “That’s what I was saying, idiot.”

“Kenma was literally going to murder Lev because of you,” Koutarou adds.

“I cried for a week when I thought you were dead,” Akaashi says.

“You know how I felt,” Kenma says. “You know you’re the most important thing to me. In the whole world, you’re the most important.”  

“Why are we all focusing on me all the sudden,” Tetsurou says, slumping down as he blushes. “You all said things too.”

Kenma pinches his cheek. “You’re so cute.”

“I love all of you,” Akaashi says. “But please let me sleep.”

“Harsh,” Tetsurou says.

“Shush! He wants to sleep!”

“Koutarou, you’re being the loudest.”

“… Sorry.”

Kenma smiles. He understands what Akaashi said about feeling content earlier. He has to admit, there are still questions lingering in the back of his mind, but at this moment, right here, he doesn’t care. He has Tetsurou here beside him, Akaashi tucked safe into Koutarou’s arms, a smile on Koutarou’s face. At this moment, this is all that matters. Regardless of what might happen in the future, this moment is perfect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that's all, folks.
> 
> I'll be posting part 2 on October 15th for sure. You can subscribe to the series or just keep an eye out for it. It'll most likely be titled "Burn" and it will be primarily IwaOi, but it'll start off not long after this arc and will keep the same characters and plot threads, since, as you can see, I have not wrapped them all up in this arc.

**Author's Note:**

> Updates weekly, hopefully, might drop to every other week later on. Leave a comment or come yell at me on tumblr (dgalerab). :)


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